HOUES WITH MI PUPILS: 



OR, 



EDUCATIONAL ADDRESSES, ETC. 



THE YOUXG LADY'S GUIDE, AND PARENT'S 
AND TEACHER'S ASSISTANT. 



BY 



MES. LINCOLN PHELPS, 

LATE PRINCIPAL OF PATAPSCO INSTTTUTK, OF MARYLAND, 

AUTHOR OF " LINCOLN'S BOTANY," AND A SERIES OF WORKS FOR SCHOOLS, 

ON BOTANY, NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, CHEMISTRY, ETC., 

"the fireside FftlliND," " IDA NOKMAN," ETC. 



»- e *■ 



NEW YOKK: 
CHARLES SGPJBl^ER 124 GRAKD STEEET. 

MDCCCLIX. 






Entered according to Act of Congresa, in the year 1859, by 

CHARLES SCRIBNER, 

In the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of 

New York, 



W. H. TiNsoN, Stareotyper. J. J, Reed, Printer. 



> > 




TO 



THE GUIDE OF MY EARLY YEARS, MY EDUCATOR, MY AFFECTIONATE 
FRIEXD AND BELOVED SISTER, 

LET US ENCOURAGE EACH OTHER IN OUR MUTUAL LABORS, 
ADOPTING THE SENTIMENT OF THE POET: 

" Fear not to cast 
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at la.st 
In joy to find it after many days. 
The work be thine, the fruit tliy children's part: 
Choose to believe, not see ; sight tempts the heart 
From sober walking in true Gospel ways." * 

ALMIRA LINCOLN PHELPS. 

EcTAW Place, Baltimore, Marylamd. 
March 2Sth, 1S59. 



* Keble's Christian Year. 



COI^TEIS'TS. 



-•-•-0- 



FIRST SERIES. 

ADDRESS I. 

Page 
Sketch of Patapsco in the Autumn of 1841 — Changes — Problem to be 
wrought out in regard to the Education of "Women — A new Home — 
Ticissitudes — Women of the North and South 81 

ADDRESS II. 
Dignity of Character — Mistress and Servant — " Coming out " — A New Eng- 
land Family — Southern Housekeepers — Home Happiness— The Path of 
Duty 89 

ADDRESS in. 
Beauty without Discretion — Solomon's Choice — Discretion and Judgment 
— Indiscretion — The True End of Knowledge 52 

ADDRESS IV. 
Truth and Sincerity — The Flatterer — Things which the Lord hateth— 
Secret Sins 61 

ADDRESS V. 
Christmas and New Tear — Culture of the Social Affections— Christmas 
Oflferings — Pleasure not the Object of Life— Beauty not Material 69 

ADDRESS YI. 
Pleasure and Duty— Something to Do— The Nativity— Importance of 

Minutes 79 

ADDRESS YII. 
Relation of the Present to the Future— What to Do Next —Abridging the 

Period for Education 87 

ix 



X Contents. 

ADDRESS YIII. 

Page 

stability of Moral Principle— The Only Security for the Young in their 
Intercourse with the "World— Precept without Example — The Young 
Debutante — Trials of a Belle — Education never Finished 93 

address' IX. 

Change — The Acorn — The Infant — Development — Changes in the Physical 
World 102 

ADDRESS X. 
A Model Character— Physical Exercises — Dress — "Want of Fortune 109 

ADDRESS- XL 

Wisdom— Self-Government— "Want of Truthfulness— The Wisdom Class- 
Piety 116 

ADDRESS XII. 
Opening of a Summer Session — Literary Institutions — Moral Courage — 
Faults — Remai-ks to Teachers— Relation between Teachers and Pupils.. 124 

ADDRESS XIIL 

The Drama of Life — Acting a Part in Life — Woman's Life — Accomplish- 
ments—Useful Knowledge — A Word to Teachers 184 

ADDRESS XIV. 

On the Close of a School-Session in Autumn — Sudden Intimacies — EfFectfl 
of Personal Beauty — Those who make Home Happy — Example and Influ- 
ence of Teachers 143 

ADDRESS XV. 

Temples Dedicated to Improvement — Allegorical — Educational Improve- 
ment — Temple for the Study of Nature 153 

ADDRESS XVI. 
Perfect Happiness not to be found on Earth— The Daughter at Home 161 

ADDRESS XVIL 
A Good Beginning — Living by a Plan — A Bad Plan of Living — Twigs and 
Young Trees 165 

ADDRESS XVIII. 

Human Life, its Beginning, its Progress, and its Clo^e — Moral Agency — 
Infant Life — ^The Young Girl sent from Home — The Young Lady re- 
turned from School— A Good Wife— Close of Life. . . . , 172 



Contents. xi 

ADDRESS XIX. 

Page 

Times and Seasons— Changing Seasons — Changing Seasons of Life — Lite- 
rary Taste— Season of Youth , 184 

ADDRESS XX. 
Our Garden and Gardeners — Blossoms in Sylvan Walks — Moral Culture — 
English Schools as described by Dickens— English Writers on America — 
Leadings of Providence 192 

ADDRESS XXI. 
Relative Duties of Teachers and Pupils — Favoritism— Companionship — 
What Others think of Us — Pupils Should not be confined to Text-Books — 
Adaptation £02 

ADDRESS XXII. 
Progressive Improvement — Importance of First Impressions — Necessity of 
Rules — High Calling of Educators — Passing Regrets = 218 

ADDRESS XXIIL 
Study — The Thorough Scholar — The Superficial Scholar — Reviewing the 
Past — When Pupils are not Patients 222 

ADDRESS XXIV. 
For a Closing Session — Suggestive Bleditations — New Associations— All 
Right at Last 280 

ADDRESS XXV. 
To the Graduating Class of 1849 286 



SECOND SERIES. 

ADDRESS L 
What Schools ought to be — And what Scholars ought to be — Domestic and 
Religious Training — Superficial Knowledge — Improving Time — The Christ- 
ian Graces 249 

ADDRESS IT. 
Letters — Duties to Parents — An Ungrateful Letter — A Good Letter 258 

ADDRESS III. 
On the Character of Miss Mercer, the Teacher, Philanthropist, and Christ- 
ian—Miss Mercer's Love of Nature , 265 

ADDRESS IV. 
Good Words and Works— Practical Duties — The Right Stopping-place — 
Sentimental Virtue 2T1 



xii Contents. 

ADDRESS V. 

Page 

To the Graduating Class of 1850 2T9 

ADDRESS VI. 
Bad Advisers— The Tempter— The False Accuser— The Choice 281 

ADDRESS VII. 
" Meditate upon these Things "—Effects of Meditation upon Character- 
Shame of undeserved Praise • 289 

ADDRESS VIII. 
To the Graduating Class of 1851 294 

ADDRESS IX. 
Books— Danger from Improper Books — ^Worthless Books— Moore and 
Byron 801 

ADDRESS X. 
To the Graduating Class of 1852 809 

ADDRESS XI. 
Behavior at Home and Abroad— Try to make Home Happy— The Young 
Lady at Home— Conduct as a Visitor— Conduct in TraveUing— Behavior 
towards Gentlemen 812 

ADDRESS XII. 
To the Graduating Class of 1853 822 

ADDRESS XIII. 
Reflection— Thoughts— Words— Actions— Circumstances of Life 82T 

ADDRESS XIV. 
To the Graduating Class of 1854 834 

ADDRESS XV. 
The Virtuous Woman — A Bride — Apparel 838 

ADDRESS XVI. 
To the Graduates of 1855 848 

ADDRESS XVII. 
Christian Profession — Those who make no Christian Profession — God's Pro- 
vidences — The Holy Communion — Gathering at Table 848 

ADDRESS XVin. 
To the Graduates of 1856 856 

Conclusion 802 



P K E F A C E. 



In publisliing a portion of her addresses and letters to 
her pupils, the Author is redeeming a promise often 
made and repeated, to many who have asked permission to 
copy what had been read to them. 

As these pages were not written merely to please, or 
to gain popularity, neither are they published for this ob- 
ject. It is not for those who are advancing in life, and 
who know that for them time is emphatically short, to 
flatter the popular taste, regardless of moral effects. 
Before the earnestness of truth and sincerity, the glitter- 
ing charms of wordy eloquence, or the seductive imag- 
ery of unhallowed genius, sink into insignificance. Be 
mine the office to teach the principles of virtue and piety, 
with the force of truth and the eloquence of sincerity. 
Go then, ye written thoughts, speed your way to the 
hearts of the women of my country ; teach them there is 
something more worthy of their immortal destiny than 
the study of modes of dress, and the etiquette of fashion- 
able society ; teach them the worth of their own souls ; 
instill in their minds aspirations for a higher life on earth, 
and for a glorious immortality ! Inspire with hope and 
courage the hearts of the depressed and afflicted, those 

13 



XIV PEEFACE. 

who may be bowed down with a sense of their own un- 
worthiuess, the injustice of others, or the chastenings of 
Providence; inspire these with renewed energy and reso- 
lution, that they may go on in their labors of love and 
duty, and " run with patience the race that is set before 
them." 

The question arises, will what was heard with res- 
pectful attention by loving and devoted pupils meet 
with favor under the new circumstances in which these 
instructions are now to appear ? In years past, there 
would have been a fluttering anxiety in the mind of the 
Author, until this question should be solved ; now she 
only ho^es that her book may be an instrument for good, 
leaving in entire resignation to the will of God the final 
result ; happy in the consciousness of such past success 
in the training of the young as has been given to her la- 
bor; thankful for what she has hitherto been enabled to 
do, and yet justly humbled by the consciousness that with 
great opportunities of usefulness she has accomplished so 
little. 



INTKODUCTION. 



** Hours with my Pupils I" How do these words, as 
they touch a spring in memory's casket, people my soli- 
tary apartment with living forms I Bright young faces 
appear before me, a mass of heads with raven locks or 
flaxen curls, and the bloom of health upon the rounded 
cheek. Their countenances are turned towards me in the 
attitude of attention. Such was the scene presented in 
the weekly assemblages at the Patapsco Institute, where 
for many years, I labored in my mission of educator. 
The " Assembly," as those meetings were called, was held 
in the chapel, and was considered an important occasion 
by all the inmates of the establishment. 

Of this institute, I will say to those of my readers to 
whom its location and scenery may not have been familiar, 
that it is situated on an elevated table-land overlooking 
the Patapsco Eiver. Its massive granite buildings stand 
alone in solitary grandeur, giving to the indwellers a 
sense of elevation and upliftedness, which harmonizes with 
the sublimity of the surrounding scenery. The deep 
recessed windows in the massive walls with the huge 
chimneys, combine to give the impression of a Gothic 
castle of the middle age. Here passed fifteen years of my 



XY 



XVI INTEODUCTION. 

life, and under my watch and care, grew from small 
beginnings, a large and jQiourisliing institution, numbering 
about one hundred and fifty inmates, including besides 
pupils, various officers of the institution, teachers and 
servants. One mind directed all, and its labors were 
crowned with success by Him who ordereth all events. 

On the days of " assembly " the inmates of the entire 
establishment were impressed with a sense that there 
must be quiet ; servants about the premises checked their 
accustomed mirth, their laughter or singing, and if there 
chanced to be one forgetful of the occasion, there was ever 
some mentor at hand to put the finger on the lip and 
point to the chapel, or to say, " hush, they are in as- 
sembly." These quiet hours with my pupils stand out in 
bold relief as one of the distinguishing features of . the 
whole period of my life at Patapsco. As the bell struck 
on Friday at four o'clock p.m., might have been seen pour- 
ing from the various parts of the building its many in- 
mates, who were soon, under the eye of the presiding 
teacher, seated in their proper places. Even the sable 
handmaid of the Principal felt that she had an important 
part to act, inasmuch as she was sure beforehand to 
remind her mistress that it would soon be four o'clock; 
and when the clock struck to bring forward from its place 
the formidable book of Teachers' Eeports, which with the 
written Address she had seen in progress, she would 
gravely carry to the chapel and place upon the desk, 
going out with the solemnity of one who has fulfilled a 
serious duty. The Principal having taken her seat, the 
Vice-Principal or Presiding Teacher, amidst profound and 
anxious silence, read the reports of the progress, con- 
duct, etc., of the pupils during the preceding week, after 



mTRODirCTION. xvu 

which the Principal read an Address, often interspersed 
with extempore remarks. This volume will contain the 
spirit of those addresses. The occasion naturally sug- 
gested the subjects discussed. The mother (for the time 
being) of nearly one hundred young girls, separated from 
the busy scenes of the world, its follies and temptations, 
and yet knowing that her daughters must soon become 
actors in these scenes, could never be at loss what to 
say. Her own large and varied experience of life, with 
habits of reflection and observation, should have qualified 
her to direct them wisely. The characters and conduct 
of the women who were educated by her must be the test. 
Yet we would object to those cases being taken as a 
criterion where the pupil was but a short time under the 
influence of the system of education pursued at Patapsco, 
where the previous training had been defective, or where 
the influences on leaving school were unfavorable. A few 
years of a different training could not be expected entirely 
to change early habits of thought, and subsequent worldly 
temptations. Yet, in my declining years, I may indulge 
the thought that there are wives and mothers, who, amidst 
their duties, bless their early friend and preceptress for 
teaching them how to act their part in life's changing 
scene, giving them rules and principles to be applied 
to those various occurrences which could only have been 
foreseen by Almighty prescience. There are teachers, 
too, who in their high and responsible duties, may refer to 
her who, according to her best abihty, taught them how 
to teach, and inspired them with lofty ideas of the mission 
to which they had devoted themselves. Are there not, 
too, ladies walking in single blessedness, fancy free, who 
can refer to impressions derived from my instructions, 



XVm INTEODUCTION. 

that there might be a course of life, dignified and useful, 
above the trivialities of fashion and folly, devoted to the 
study of the true and beautiful, to the cultivation of the 
mind and taste, and to the doing good to others, making 
happy those who come within the charmed circle of their 
influence ? Such were the objects in view in the addresses 
to my pupils, which will appear in the following pages. 



HISTOEICAL SKETCH. 



The educational labors of the author of this volume 
commenced at an early age. After the decease of her 
husband, Simeon Lincoln of Connecticut, she became con- 
nected with her sister, Mrs. Emma Willard, in the 
Troy New York Female Seminary, of which institution 
Mrs. Phelps was Acting Principal in 1830 and '31, dur- 
ing a visit of her sister to Europe. 

On her marriage with the Hon. John Phelps, of Ver- 
mont, in 1831, she removed to that State, where, during 
the seven following years, she prepared for publication 
her "Female Student; or, Fireside Friend," ''Caroline 
Westerly ; or, the Young Traveller," " Geology, Botany, 
Natural Philosophy, and Chemistry, for Beginners," with 
'' Lectures on Natural Philosophy and Chemistry, and 
Progressive Education, with a Mother's Journal." Severe 
mental labor and close application, with consequent 
sedentary habits, having seriously affected her health, a 
change of climate and mode of life seemed desirable. 
About this time, an invitation to Mrs. Phelps to organize 
and preside over a seminary in West Chester, Pa., was 
regarded favorably by her husband, as offering a desir- 
able opportunity for the exercise of her educational tastes 
and experience in a sphere where doing would be united 

19 



XX HISTOKICAL SKETCH. 

with thinking, and active duties surrounded by the young, 
would take the place of solitary study and reflection. 

The new seminary was opened in October, 1838, 
under flattering auspices ; but, while the public were 
looking to its brilliant success, the Principal of the Edu- 
cational Department (as Mrs. Phelps was called) saw the 
elements of its dissolution in the hostility of some of the 
trustees to religious instruction and worship ; and finding 
that no influence of hers — no success, however flattering, 
could induce a change in their settled determination to 
counteract, if they did not exclude, religious teaching, 
she resolved to withdraw from her connection with this 
institution ; thou2:h it was not without sorrow of heart 
that she left the warm-hearted girls who had come 
together to be under her care, and the intelligent and 
hospitable social circle of friends which had welcomed 
her coming among them, and deeply regretted the cause 
of her departure. 

Undertaken with no regard to improvement, but as a 
grand speculation, the West Chester Seminary contained 
within its own organization the elements of decay. The 
Girard College, with its no-religion, had been the great 
model of some of its founders; — but without the Girard 
funds to sustain the splendid but hollow fabric, it fell to 
ruin. When too late, the stockholders and trustees 
appointed a committee to wait on the late Principal of 
the Educational Department, and offer to her the uncon- 
trolled direction of the establishment ; but she had 
already made for herself and many attached pupils a 
pleasant home in Eahway, N. J. Here she proposed 
to complete the scholastic course of certain normal 
pupils who had accompanied her from New England, and, 



HISTORICAL SKETCH. XXI 

after seeing them established in their chosen profession, to 
return to the home in Bratleborongh, Vermont, to which 
she had ever expected to retire. But the Lord had other 
designs. 

An invitation jointly from the bishop of the diocese of 
Maryland, and the trustees of the Patapsco Female In- 
stitute, in 1841, induced Mr. and Mrs. Phelps to remoYe 
from New Jersey to establish in Maryland a school for 
Christian education. They were accompanied by most 
of their teachers, with a large number of former pupils 
from New England, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. 

We have given a brief sketch of the steps which, under 
the guidance of God's providence, led the author to that 
beloved spot, where, during her life's meridian, she enjoyed 
her labors of love in the companionship of the young, the 
beautiful, and the gifted. If all were not such as we 
might have wished, there were none who had not some 
redeeming traits of character. Removed from kindred, 
and dependent on my care and affection, they were my 
daughters. Was there not love between us ? How often 
does the beaming forth of some almost forgotten counte- 
nance remind me that nothing is lost — that no love which 
has ever been felt can be blotted out of the heart's memory. 

It was here that the spirit of my husband serenely 
passed away from earth, like the calm sun-set of an October 
evening, when the hills and forests which skirt the western 
horizon of Patapsco are tinted with heavenly radiance. 
And then, after some years had passed, another spirit 
was called away. She who might well serve for a model 
of what woman should be — who was admired, loved, and 
almost revered by those who saw her beautiful life, who 
heard her sweet music on many instruments, and the 



XXll HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

touching tones of her voice ; whose life was harmony, 
uniting learning and accomplishments with piety and all 
womanly virtues ; she was suddenly called for — and, in a 
moment, nothing was left but the empty shrine of the 
departed spirit. 

It was not in her home at Patapsco that this change 
came. It was when travelling* with her invalid mother, 
watching with anxiety the effect upon her of change of air 
and scene after a protracted illness — it was then, that 
God called her to himself, and doubtless with that ready 
obedience which ever characterized her, her spirit re- 
sponded, " Lord, here am I." 

A few months after this affliction, the Author, yielding to 
the pressure of sorrow, and the ever-present consciousness 
of a support taken away, made arrangements for resign- 
ing the charge of the Patapsco Institute. Established 
on the basis of Christian principles, and blessed with 
Christian worship and ordinances, it had flourished and 
taken firm root as a standard collegiate institution for the 
daughters of the South. That this religious culture 
should be continued by her successor, was the first stipu- 
lation made by the Principal, and it is the testimony of her 
experience, that no system of education not based upon 
religion can be permanently successful. 

Often does the author of " Hours with my PujMls," re- 
visit the picturesque scenes of her past labors, and rejoic- 
ing at the sight of its well filled halls, delight in still call- 
ing their fair inmates " My daughters." 

* The death of Jane P. Lincoln, the eldest daughter of Mrs. Phelps, occurred 
by the railroad calamity of August 29, 1855, near Burlington, N. J. 



A FAREWELL TO VERMONT. 



Land of the Mountains Green* and rugged soil ;— 
Of cascades wild, of swiftly gliding streams ; — 
Of darkly waving pines, and stately firs ; — 
Of gloomy ravines, and romantic dells ; — 
Of haunted glens, and sweetly smiling dales ! 
Land of my beauteous, mountain home, farewell ! 

Yet still I linger — for, to me, thou art 
A land of beauty, picturesque, and rich 
In native charms — a land for Poet's dreams, 
For patriot's visions, and for angel's thought. 
Methinks there's inspiration in the breeze 
Reflected from yon mountain's pine-clad side, 
Breathing aerial music to my soul — 
Then dying 'mid the groves, with cadence sweet. 

Yet in these shades, where Poesy might dwell, 
And Fiction weave her ever-varying web, 
Xo magic lyre has struck ; no fairy bands 
Have issued forth to charm the wond'ring world. 

* Vermont was originally called by the French Verd Mont, or the Green 
Mountain State. 

23 



XXIV A FAREWELL TO VEKMONT. 

Is it that in my soul the chord is broke, 

That once could harmonize with nature's charms, 

And poesy, with youth, has passed away ? 

It is not this, methinks, but that fair Truth, 

With her pure, steady light, has seemed more bright 

Than Fiction's flickering torch, and gilded ray. 

To study nature, and God's providence. 

As manifest in these material things, 

And having learn' d, t' impart to other minds 

Knowledge so wond'rous, this, I've better deem'd 

Than pencilling fantastic imagery. 

There's poetry in science, when it leads 
To gaze upon the rainbow's glorious arch. 
To follow Echo to her grottos wild. 
To trace the circling planets in their course, 
And watch the bud first bursting into bloom. 

Nature, I owe thee much ; — if I have felt 
Aught of the firm resolve, or wish sublime, 
'Tis that I drank from thee the heavenly draught, 
And gave thy moral image to the world. 
And, oh ye venerable oaks ! whose shade 
Embosoms the dear spot I now must leave. 
Adieu, ye ancient friends ! and may, sometimes, 
Thy feather'd songsters thriU in pensive notes 
Their sorrow for me, gone ! for dear to me 
Their matin song and vesper hymn have been. 

Sweet home, adieu ! flowers that I've loved to tend, 
Watching with care maternal for your bloom ; 
Others may cull your sweets, enjoy your charms. 
May twine my woodbine o'er the trellis neat. 
May guide the Lonicera's * spiral way, 

* Trumpet honeysuckle. 



A FAREWELL TO VERMONT. XXV 

Or train the pensile Lycium's * graceful stalk. 
Oh, ye have been my pride, ye twining race, 
Who have so beautified and cheer'd my bow'rs ; 
And I have fancied, as I've seen you climb, 
'Twas gratitude that urged your upward way, """ 
And gave luxuriant blossoms for my care. 
E'en on the very verge of winter's frost, 
Your bloom still lingers, as if fain ye would 
Cheer nature's gloom, and soothe this parting hour. 

My grateful flower, methinks I hear thee ask 
Why thus I leave thee to a stranger's care ; 
Perchance, uncared for, trampled under foot 
By the rude hind, as valueless and naught. 
My honeysuckle sweet, list to my words ; 
Thou'rt a dear, docile plant, and pleasant 'tis 
To train thee in the way that thou should'st go. 
But I must tell thee, there are flowers on earth 
Created for far purer skies than these. 
They are allied to thee in outward form, 
Being made of earth and beautified by God 
With shape and color, lovely to the eye. 
But God to these sweet flowers has given 
Immortal spirits to survive decay. 
In yon fair sylvanf land a garden blooms 
Of those immortal plants, and fitting 'tis 
That skillful, patient hands should lend their aid 
To train them for the ends which God ordains. 
As step by step, thy upward way I've train'd. 
So must I guide them in their onward course 
Up learning's height, and virtue's rugged way. — 
Such labor calls me hence, but yet, methinks, 

* Tea-vine. t Peuu-sylvauia or reun's sylvan-land. 

2 



XXVI A FAREWELL TO VERMONT. 

When frost of time shall settle on my brow, 
And age asks respite from the cares of life, 
Like Noah's wand'ring dove, my flowers, my birds, 
My ancient trees, again I'll come to you. 

Here stands 7ny home, above the busy town. 
Peeping through clustering oaks with col'mns white 
And fair proportions. Quick the eye of taste. 
Beholding from the busthng street below. 
Pauses to mark its beauty, and admire 
A scene so fair. Ionian portico, and verdant lawn, 
Piazzas, gravel'd walks, and garden fair, 
All, all, adieu ! I may not linger more 
Within these halls, sacred to studious thought, 
To social converse, and the heart's repose. 

But thou, my native stream !* I turn to thee. 

As to an early friend ; — what though thy wave 

First met my view, where stands the Charter Oakf 

(That patriotic tree of olden time). 

And where sweet Sigourney now tunes her harp ; — 

What, though changing time my home has placed 

In regions distant from that honored land. 

For steady habits erst so much renown' d. 

And strait-hair' d Puritans, a goodly race ; 

Yet nearer to thine own hirth-ijlacc^X thou'rt still 

My native stream ; and onward mak'st thy way 

Laving the soil, where, in their last repose, 

* The Connecticut River. 

t The hollow oak in which was concealed the Charter of Connecticut when 
Sir Edmund Andross, commanded by James IL, went to Hartford, Conn., to 
seize upon that instrument. N.B.— This hollow tree, of 168T, flourished in a 
green old age, the pride of Connecticut, until 1857, when it was prostrated 
by a violent wind. 

% The Connecticut River rises in the north part of Vermont. 



A FAREWELL TO VERMONT. XXvil 

My lov'd ones rest, father, and kindred near ; 
And dearer names, that memory garners up 
'Mid her mysterious and spectral throng, 
Shadows of youthful hope, and youthful love. 
As theirs, I would that my last rest might be 
Beside my native stream. 

How oft, at pensive twilight, has my gaze, 
"Wandering beyond the cheerful village scene, 
Sought yonder hUl, whose monumental stones, 
Their snowy whiteness blending vrith the skies, 
Speak to the heart the vanity of earth. 
It is a beauteous spot, fit place for rest, — 
And such, methinks, the dreamless, quiet sleep 
Which human care or woe shall ne'er disturb. 
There, stUl, perchance, beside my native steam, 
Beneath those sacred shades, I may repose. 

Fain would I linger to survey the scene. 
The lovely, variegated landscape round ;* 
The verdant hills where echo loves to dwell, 
The mountains hoar,! seen in the distance far; 
And tributary waters, whose meand'ring course 
Is marked by waving lines of silvery tint. 
The village spires pointing towards the skies, 
Mark where the voice of heavenly wisdom sounds. 
Full many a dwelling peers upon my sight. 
Where warm hearts cluster and kind thoughts abound, 
And where, methinks, when I am far away. 
My name will not be strange upon the ear, 
ISTor utter'd but in friendship's kindest tone. 

* The tourist who has visited Brattleborough, Vermont, may have recognized 
the scenes here descrihed. 

+ The "White Hills of New Hampshu-e. 



XXVlll A FAREWELL TO VERMONT. 

Friends ! in whose converse I had thought to pass 

Life's future days, from you, time's restless wave, 

Which late has thrown me midst your pleasant scenes, 

Now bears me onward ! — 

And thus, with me, this world has ever been, 

Like rushing river, in its rapid course. 

Fain would I, as the calm and placid lake. 

Which never leaves its fond encircling shade. 

Best 'mid these cheerful bowers and solemn groves ;, — 

But God directs our pathway, and His will 

Should be our guide. Then let me nerve my heart, 

And turn me from my dear, my mountain-home. 



ADDEESSES. 



» • 



"We commence "Hours with my Pupils" with Addresses of 
the second year at Patapsco, those of the first year having been 
seldom committed to writing ; though the weekly assembly, with 
its customary exercises, was from the first always held with unde- 
viating regularity. The extempore Addresses, or Talks to the 
Pupils, were perhaps not less effective than written essays, though, 
in the latter, it was intended to keep up attention by a colloquial 
style and familiar manner. 



xsu:. 



HOUES WITH MY PUPILS. 



ADDRESS I. 

SKETCH OF PATAPSCO IN THE AUTUMN OF 1841. 

Changes — ^Problem to be wrought o\it in regard to the Education 

of Women. 
My Dear Pupils : 

One year has passed since we commenced our 
labors in this place, with the view of estabhshing an In- 
stitution for the Christian education of girls, upon an 
enlarged plan and liberal principles, giving to our sex cor- 
responding advantages with those enjoyed by young men in 
colleges. And yet we have endeavored to keep in view the 
great difference in the future destiny of the two sexes, so 
that we may not disturb the order and harmony of social 
life, in attempting to turn the future woman from her 
proper sphere of duty. We would not be instrumental in 
educating masculine women, but we seek to enlighten, 
refine and elevate the female mind and character. 

You will not, therefore, expect in this place to hear 
much upon the rights of woman, while her duties will 

81 



32 HOTJES WITH MY PuPILS. 

claim most of our attention ; and your course of educa- 
tion will be directed to fit you to become useful rather 
than brilliant, patient rather than presuming. 

One year has passed rapidly away, since most of us 
came hither as strangers. We have seen great changes 
in the appearance of our home, both within and abroad ; 
and the wilderness has literally been made to blossom as 
the rose. Some of you, brought to my care from distant 
regions, accompanied me hither, other pupils joined us 
here, and so we began to live together and to make a new 
home ; strangers to each other, with different habits of 
thinking and acting, with much to learn, and something 
to forget. 

But we will look back through memory's stereoscope to 
the entrance into this place of those who came from a 
distant region, to commence anew the work of education. 
In October of 1841, a weary company of travellers were 
climbing the steep ascent which leads to our granite edi- 
fice, that, like some feudal castle of the Ehine, overlooks 
the surrounding country. The hectic flush of decay had 
passed over the landscape, and from the old forest trees 
upon the hill-side and the mountains, the autumnal blasts 
were strewing the withered leaves upon the ground, pre- 
paratory to their returning again to their native earth. 
An equinoctial storm which had met the travellers on 
their journey, still hngered in the horizon, and the dark 
heavy clomis seemed to weep as if in harmony with the 
scene. The pathway up the hill was tangled with briars, 



A New Home. 33 

and rough with broken fragments of rock ; and around 
the mansion ^Yere heaps of unremoved stones, which had 
been left there on the erection of the building. In front 
of our classic portico, at the base of the massive granite 
steps, a drove of ill-favored swine were rooting up the 
ground, their gutteral exclamations little resembling the 
dulcet notes of the piano or harp, with which our halls 
now resound. No welcome of friends awaited the travel- 
lers as they entered their new home ; gloomy and desolate 
seemed its spacious apartments. 

But the sky was once more serene, the beauties of the 
scenery gradually unfolded themselves, every point of 
view showed some new object of interest, and the uninter- 
rupted prospect of the heavens, as seen from this great 
observatory, gave to the mind new elevation and expan- 
sion. Nowhere does the Indian-summer appear more 
delightful than in this picturesque region. 

After a few weeks of great labor and effort, the Insti- 
tute was prepared for the reception of pupils. But often 
did the unbelieving doubt arise in my mind, will parents 
come hither with their daughters ? I recalled my first 
impressions of the wildness of the scenery, of the seclusion 
of the place, and '' How hard it was to climb, etc.," 
But if I had doubts I did not express them, and when 
any one said to me, " If you succeed here," I would 
reject any supposition, and say, " we will succeed." 

There was work done by faithful laborers, without on 
the grounds, and in the interior, to render the abode plea- 

2* 



34: HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

sant and comfortable. Load after load of furniture found 
its way into the house, which at length began to look like 
a home. And so I trust those of you who were with us 
last year have found it, as well as a literary institution 
where the mind has received its due share of atten- 
tion. 

The new Patapsco Institute opened encouragingly ; 
travelling from afar were seen pupils, — from Canada and 
the southern States, from the Atlantic and the Missis- 
sippi, and even the Cherokee nation ; they met here — 
and here they have lived together as a band of sisters 
under the care of their common parents. Most of them 
are now before me, ready to welcome with kind greeting 
the new sisters who have joined them in this beginning of 
a new school year. 

But unexpected events have prevented the return of 
some. Among these the first who came hither to welcome 
the founders of the new Institute was a widowed mother, 
bringing her two lovely daughters. She was enthusias- 
tic in the cause of the education of woman, and ready to 
make sacrifices to promote the improvement of her daugh- 
ters. Her enlightened and judicious opinions, so earnestly 
expressed, were highly encouraging in respect to the suc- 
cess of the undertaking. Superior to narrow views, and 
highly appreciating intellectual efforts and zeal in a good 

cause, Mrs. 's companionship was of no small value 

to her, who was deeply sensible of the many obstacles to 
be overcome in the accomplishment of her objects. She 



YlCISSITUDES. 35 

was a woman of feeble frame and delicate heath, the sole 
parent of a large family, but her comprehensive and far- 
seeing mind looked beyond present scenes, and she per- 
severingly followed out for herself that course which her 
judgment had decided on. With no pretensions to 

being a literary woman, Mrs. , was far more, and 

better ; sensible, wise and pious, she was one to 
strengthen and uphold a cause in which she embarked. 
And the daughters of this mother were obedient to rules, 
studious and diligent, simple in dress, and conscientious 
in morals and religion. How does a mother's character 
appear in the dress, deportment and mind of a daugliter. 
In the midst of plans for the proper training of her 
children, this excellent mother was removed to another 
world ; the orphans must journey on in life, no longer 
watched and guarded by her care. The places which the 
two elder daughters last year occupied with us, are now 
filled by others — they must remain at their lonely home, 
the stay and support of younger children. 

On the same day that Mrs. first brought her 

daughters here, a young gentleman from Pennsylvania 
came with his sister. The personal beauty aud manly 
bearing of the youth were striking — the sister went home 
before the close of the school year, to be present at the 
marriage of this brother, but in the midst of the festivi- 
ties which followed, a fatal accident rendered a young 
bride a widow, and the home of your associate and friend 
has become " the house of mourning." 



36 HOUES WITH MT PuPILS. 

And far off in the distant Cherokee nation, there is the 
sound of mourning for a young man taken away in the 
bloom of life, and amidst prospects of usefulness among 
the people of his tribe. Educated at Princeton, young 
Mr. E. had returned to his nation prepared to vindicate 
their rights, and to exert himself to improve their condi- 
tion. A few short months have passed since he visited 
his sisters here — he expressed great delight that they 
were enjoying advantages for education, and his determi- 
nation to induce the " Head men^^ of his country to send 
their daughters to Patapsco. We see, to-day, his sisters in 
garments of mourning, and in a far distant region in the 
West there is a new grave over which bereaved parents 
weep. 

Again, one of your number, by a mother's decease, is 
called home to be the consoler of her father, and the 
directress of his house. Such are some of the changes in 
the families of those who last year were here assembled. 
And what changes may this year witness ? 

We have, my dear pupils, brought forward these in- 
stances, to show you the uncertainty of every situation in 
this life. While some of you are repining, perchance, that 
you are to be kept longer at school, the decree may 
have gone forth that shall suddenly remove you from 
this place ; you may be taken from life, or fortune may 
change, and your parents be no longer able to meet the 
expenses of your education. How ought you, then, to 
improve the advantages here enjoyed, and to lay up in 



Women of the !N'oeth and South. 37 

store wisdom to guide yon, if left to yourselves. Seek to 
do your duty to your friends who sent you here, to your- 
selves, and to the Institution, by improving to the utmost 
of your power all the means put into your hands for your 
own benefit. 

There are those who love knowledge, who thirst for it, 
and who would gladly make great efforts to gain the op- 
portunities which you enjoy. The factory girls of New 
England often study hard in hours allotted to rest, and 
not unfrequently make great proficiency in literary pur- 
suits. In some parts of our country, especially in New 
England, the daughters of those who might be called 
independent in circumstances, often assist in educating 
themselves, by teaching a portion of the time, and thus 
strengthening their minds, while they aid their parents. 
Should there be less zeal for education among the daugh- 
ters of the South ? They are not less gifted in intellect, 
nor less aspiring in their ambition to attain excellence. 
The state of society among them is, indeed, somewhat dif- 
ferent ; woman is considered more helpless. There is a 
cause for this that will have its influence — the misfortune 
of being waited upon by those who have nothing else to 
do. But it is this very helplessness that we would urge 
you to cast aside. There is a problem to be wrought out, 
and you, my daughters from the South, are called upon 
to assist in its solution. It is the use of education to 
woman in rendering her better fitted for her duties, and 
more efficient in their discharge. Enlightened in intellect, 



38 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS- 

cultivated in morals, and firm in religious principles, may 
American women comprehend the high destiny of their 
country, and whether of the North or the South, may 
they use their powerful influence to hold fast the ties 
of union — Sisters at Patapsco, may they never cease to 
cherish the sisterly bond, nor to do all in their power to 
soften asperities of sectional feeling which may hereafter 
rise up among their fathers, brothers, and husbands. 

Nov., 1842. 



ADDRESS II. 

DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 

The word dignity is by most persons falsely apprecia- 
ted ; it is supposed to relate to that which is grand and 
lofty, and associated with the characters and actions of 
those who occupy superior stations in society. If we 
consider dignity as the opposite of meanness, we must ad- 
mit, that while the latter quality is often found among 
the rich and elevated in station, the former may be seen 
in the humblest condition in life. 

In what, then, does dignity consist ? When we behold 
one occupying an elevated position, surrounded by accom- 
paniments which suggest ideas of refinement and author- 
ity, we naturally associate with these circumstances, dig- 
nity and elevation of mind. Yet, experience of the 
world shows, that meanness of spirit may exist in the in- 
dividual thus surrounded by external grandeur ; and that 
on familiar acquaintance, the character of those occupy- 
ing high stations may appear mean and undignified ; while 
we often feel respect for the poor and lowly whom we 
see above mean actions, whose thoughts are noble, though 
their circumstances are humble. 

89 



40 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

Approach yonder proud mansion, enter its spacious 
halls, survey its costly furniture, its works of art, its 
hoards of rich plate, bespeaking family antiquity and 
honors. In a tasteful boudoir, reclining on a luxurious 
couch, and clad in costly robes, is the mistress of the man- 
sion ; from her infancy she has been the pampered child 
of fortune, she has been taught no lessons of self-denial, 
she has never felt want, and knows no sympathy for the 
distresses of others. Accustomed to command with impe- 
rial sway the menials who are taught to obey her slight- 
est wish, her own passions have grown with her growth, 
and strengthened with her strength. Of self-control or 
self-denial she knows nothing. Material wants and 
schemes for self-gratification occupy her thoughts ; some- 
thing to pamper the appetite, some new fashion of dress, 
some new party of pleasure, some new excitement in 
which she may forget the real worthlessness of her exis- 
tence ; these may be the desires which occupy her, mind ; 
while " envy, hatred and malice," are indulged by her 
without compunction or remorse. Does this woman in all 
her luxurious surroundings and grandeur of position, ex- 
hibit true dignity in her character and conduct ? 

In the mud-plastered cottage near the great house, is 
the servant, whose birth may have been contemporaneous 
with that of her haughty niis tress, whose commands even 
in childhood she was taught to obey with patient and 
uncomplaining submission, to tremble at her frown, to go 
and come at her bidding, to be by turns the sport and 



Mistress and Servant. 41 

plaything of her gayer moments, or the victim of her 
temper and passion. 

Day after day, the menial has gone on, striving, though 
in vain, to satisfy the demands upon her skill, labor and 
self-devotion, attaching herself with warm affection to one 
who showed no mercy to her ; gentle, uncomplaining, she 
has submitted to her fate, and striven to perform her 
duty. Through the long vista of life she sees no ame- 
lioration of her lot ; but she hears, perhaps from one 
ignorant as herself, of a friend in heaven who sitteth at 
the right hand of God making intercession for her, that 
when her toils are over, she may be received into man- 
sions of everlasting peace ; she sees through the light of 
the Gospel, so clear that the most ignorant are enlighten- 
ed by its beams, that beyond this vale of tears, there is 
a land where the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease 
from troubling. The blessed hopes of everlasting life 
and peace spring up in her benighted soul ; she loves that 
Saviour who gave himself for her, and piety gives her 
new resolution to go on, from day to day, laborious and 
patient, looking for glorious rewards hereafter. 

Who would say that there is not in the character of 
this poor menial, more true dignity than in that of her 
selfish, worldly and unscrupulous mistress ? May such of 
you as in your future lives will have control over fellow 
beings whose happiness in God's providence is made 
dependent on your kindness, sometimes think of the pic- 
tures here presented ; and may you never be excelled by 



42 Hours with my Pupils. 

them in dignity and true nobility of character. Show 
to them that you, too, can sacrifice your own inclinations, 
and that you are willing to do it out of regard to their 
comforts and feelings ; — be not surpassed by them in self- 
command, or in generosity of spirit. 

It is not to be denied, however humiliating may be the 
admission, that many women live with little regard to 
true dignity — that their estimate as to what constitutes 
this is low, and entirely at variance with the Scripture 
definition of a good woman. If they think of beauty, it 
is not the beauty of holiness ; if they hunger and thirst, 
it is not for righteousness ; they do not regard " wisdom 
as more precious than rubies," or consider it as " an orna- 
ment of grace to the head ;" they forget that " favor is 
deceitful and beauty vain," and that praise belongeth 
only "to the woman that feareth the Lord." Vanity 
leads many of our sex into fearful snares ; and the love 
of pleasure and admiration tempt them to stray in 
forbidden paths. False notions of life often fill the 
minds of young girls about to leave school. The ex- 
pressions "coming out into society," "finished educa- 
tion," "entering life," etc., seem to mean something, 
though what this something is, cannot always be easily 
defined. 

The " coming out " of a young lady, or her being per- 
mitted to partake freely of fashionable dissipation, is but 
a poor beginning for a life of duty, trials and cares. It 
would be far better if, for the foolish notions which too 



^''Coming Out." 43 

often fill the beads of young girls, could be substituted 
more just and rational ideas of life. It is true tliat some 
parents, with ill-judged kindness make the period of a 
daughter's leaving school an era of extravagance and 
dissipation, and instead of seeking to develop good prin- 
ciples and confirm the habits of industry, order and solf- 
restraint which the faithful educator has so carefully 
labored to cultivate, they seem in haste to change all ; 
and before the daughter shall be called upon to encoun- 
ter the realities of life, to suffer her to become dazzled 
with the false glare of pleasure, and rendered unfit for the 
scenes of duty and trial which await her. 

" Poor girl," they may say, '' she has been long con- 
fined to school, she ought now to be indulged ; the 
troubles of life will come fast enough ;" and so she is 
permitted to destroy her health by dissijiation, to lose 
her innocent simplicity in the search for adventure, and 
to acquire a fondness for excitement, which will render 
the quiet scenes of practical life dull and monotonous. 

Surely this is ill-judged kindness on the part of the 
parent. The idea that in " coming out," a young lady 
must have admirers, and that the greater their numbers 
the greater her triumph, naturally leads her into folly and 
flirtations. In her haste to secure beaux she perhaps 
loses a worthy and devoted admirer, who becoming dis- 
gusted with her frivolity and apparent heartlessness, 
leaves her for one less brilliant, but more worthy of his 
affection. 



44 IIoUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

Those of you who are expecting soon to complete your 
school education and who earnestly desire to do right, 
are ready to ask, " What ought I, as a young lady, en- 
tering society, to do ?" Accustomed as you have been 
to regard my counsels and warnings, and hoping my ad- 
vice may be remembered when you have entered life's 
busy scenes, I will look into the future, aiding you as far 
as my experience may go, in discriminating the path of 
duty before you. 

When you cease to be school-girls, your situations and 
occupations will, of course, be different from what they 
were in vacations, when you were at home preparing for 
a return to school. I would ask you, if it is a time for you 
to plunge into amusements when life opens before you, and 
you should begin in earnest to act your part in its varied 
scenes ? 

Resolve seriously to set yourselves about living accord- 
ing to some method. Consider what you can do, what 
you ought to do ; and what your friends wish you to do. 
Observe the cares of your mother, if you enjoy the bless- 
ing of such a parent, and begin to share them with her. 
If she should be feeble, tenderly regard her weaknesses 
of body or mind ; comfort her heart by your sympa- 
thy, and sustain her by your prudence and stability of 
character. Look over the household arrangements ; you 
have perhaps in your school-days been ambitious to keep 
your small room with taste and neatness ; apply your in- 
dustry and skill to putting in order the different apart- 



A New England Family. 45 

ments of the house, observing the arrangement of furni- 
ture, and looking into domestic operations. 

In New England young ladies of education and refine- 
ment often take the charge of parlors, and sometimes 
assist their mothers in doing all the household work. 
The many factories in the eastern section of our country, 
offer employment of an easy and profitable kind, so that 
few females are willing to engage in domestic service 
when they can get better wages in factories, and live 
independently as boarders to be waited upon. Thus it 
happens that those who could hire servants are often 
obliged to do their own work ; to look after their own 
houses and to prepare the family meals. 

But you should see how these things are managed, for 
I could not otherwise make you comprehend the neatness, 
comfort, and order which are often seen to prevail in those 
families in the eastern States, where the mothers and 
daughters do the household work. 

Early on Monday morning all are up ; the mother, per- 
haps, engages in preparing the breakfast, while the daugh- 
ters commence the family's washing for the week. They 
have, of course, all been careful not to make unnecessary 
washing. Everything is life and activity — the cheerful 
voice of singing from within, mingles with the matin songs 
of the birds without. On this day, a simple dinner is 
provided, which requires little time in preparation, but 
for which labor gives a keen relish. Before the devotee 
of fashion has arisen from her disturbed and restless 



46 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

couch, the industrious mother and daughters have finished 
their washing — clothes, white as the driven snow, are 
hanging upon the lines, and the kitchen and wash room 
floors are nicely washed. Everything is put in place ; 
our matron and her blooming daughters are dressed for 
company, and very likely either receive some good neigh- 
bor, or go out and take tea sociably with a friend. And 
such teas I The snow-white table-cloth, the biscuit or rolls 
scarcely less white, the honey in its rich comb, the deli- 
cious butter made by fair hands which are perhaps no less 
skillful to play upon the piano than to perform domestic 
labor ; the cake of several kinds, the nice preserves, and 
the exquisite tea ; — this tea not put into a tea-pot musty 
through neglect, nor decocted with water below the boiling 
point ; but made exactly right by the mistress of the 
house, who esteems herself responsible for her housekeep- 
ing, and ranks neatness, care, and economy among her 
chief duties. 

While you listen to my description, you think perhaps 
of a vulgar mother and coarse-looking, unrefined daugh- 
ters; — would that I could take you by clairvoyance to 
some one of the intellectual and agreeable families in New 
England, where is realized the picture I have drawn of a 
home of comfort and plenty. 

In homes where there are no daughters, or they are sent 
abroad for education, a young girl as domestic assistant 
is often received into the family, and in many respects 
treated as a member of the same. She is sent to the 



Southern Housekeepers. 47 

public school until she has obtained a good common 
English education, rendering in the meantime most use- 
ful services to her kind benefactors. She becomes an 
inteUigent and useful woman, and perhaps marries the son 
of a neighboring farmer ; and in a home of her own, prac- 
tises those lessons of industry and frugality to which she 
has been trained. But this may be rather a picture of 
past times than of the present. The great influx of emi- 
grants in every part of our country renders it more easy to 
obtain domestic servants, and Bridgets and Noras, with 
their strong hands and red, brawny arms, are relieving 
their more delicate mistresses of the burdens they for- 
merly so cheerfully, bore. Whether this is in reality 
increasing the happiness of society, is doubtful. The 
feeble, sickly women of our country, drooping and nervous 
for want of exercise, would indicate the negative. « 

Most of you young ladies from the southern States are 
not under the necessity of performing household labor. It 
would be a mistaken kindness in you to do the labor, and 
let the menials live in idleness. But yet it is well for you to 
know what labor is, that you can feel sympathy for them ; 
besides, your servant may be sick, and humanity may 
require of you to relieve her from duty, even if you should 
take upon yourself the burden of her labor. Though not 
called upon, in general, to servile labor, you are not 
excused from a life of usefulness. No family can be well 
ordered, or even comfortable, where the care, as well as 
the labor, is thrown upon burvants. I would hope that 



48 HOUES WITH MY PupiLa. 

you have here learned to respect the virtues of industry 
and neatness, and with your other accompUshments, have 
acquired habits of order and system, which in future life 
will be more important to you than the merely ornamen- 
tal branches of education. 

To woman it belongs to soothe the couch of sickness, 
to minister to the wants of declining age, to diffuse 
around the fireside an air of cheerfulness and comfort, to 
watch over the wants of a household, and to armnge and 
control in the little empire of home. First, as daughters 
you should learn to minister to your parents, to anticipate 
their wishes, to study their happiness, even though it call 
for the sacrifice of your own enjoyments. This picture 
may be far different from the one in your fancy, where 
gay parties with all the excitements of a life of pleasure 
occupy the foreground. But how absurd for any rational 
mind to consider the mere accidental circumstances of 
life as its business or employment. It was said by Han- 
nah More, one of the greatest and best of women of the 
past generation, that, " from the manner in which girls 
were brought up, one would suppose that life was a per- 
petual holiday, and that the great object was to bring 
them up to shine in its amusements and sports." 

Accomplishments should be valued chiefly for their in- 
fluence in rendering the domestic circle more cheerful and 
refined ; most young ladies seem to consider them as 
only intended to gain for them the homage of admira- 
tion in society. The idea of merely entertaining their 



Home Happiness. 49 

parents, brothers or sisters with their accomplishments 
would seem unreasonable ; a loss of time and trouble ; a 
very dull affair. How false, how destructive to the hap- 
piness of domestic life are such low views of educa- 
tion. 

You disregard the happiness of your parents when you 
fail to do your duty. They are distressed not so much on 
their own account, as that you act unworthily ; they per- 
ceive in you a low standard of character, a mean selfish- 
ness, which would seek your own gratification at the ex- 
pense of others; an exacting spirit which is never satisfied 
with indulgence, and which ever cries, give, give, caring 
little for the giver, but eager for the gifts. May you all 
be led to consider whether you do not too often give your 
best friends reason to think you are more anxious for the 
favors you receive from them than to contribute to their 
happiness, or to render yourselves worthy recipients of 
their kindness. 

Pay attention to all your words and actions at home 
and abroad. Lavater says : " Actions, looks, words, stejps, 
form the alphabet by which you may spell characters^' 
In your intercourse with society, strive to show your- 
selves prudent, considerate and intelligent. It is expected 
of those who have had superior advantages of education, 
that they will exhibit the fruits of a cultivated mind. 
When you go into society, you may not be au fait in all 
matters of etiquette, and in the current language of the 



50 Hours with my Pupils. 

day. But there is to those who are wearied with the tri- 
fling and folly of fashionable life, a charm in an unsophis- 
ticated mind. 

You can, at least, be intelligent listeners if you do not 
know exactly what to say on all subjects, and can show 
by your manner that you have mind enough to receive in- 
formation, when you meet with those who can impart it. 
One great advantage of some of your studies, especially 
mathematics, logic, etc., is to teach you the manner of 
learning, of investigating subjects. You must enter upon 
life feeling that you are only prepared to begin to learn 
its duties and its customs. So far from considering that 
you know everything, you must think you have yet almost 
everything to learn. With a just sense of your own defi- 
ciencies you will appear unassuming and amiable, and be- 
have with more true dignity than the proud, self-conceited 
woman, who in her own estimate of herself looks down 
upon others far her superiors in knowledge and worth of 
character. 

The subject on which I address you might well occupy 
a volume. Dignity of character implies correct and pro- 
per conduct in all the circumstances of life. We might 
apply our remarks to the different situations in which 
you may be placed in your future lives, to the relations 
of daughter and sister, wife and mother, mistress of a 
household, a member of the Church of Christ and of soci- 
ety at large. But our limits forbid this extension of the 



THE PATH OF DUTY. 51 

subject ; you must pursue it yourselves ; you must make 
it your own study to learn the path of duty. By following 
this course, you will not fail to exhibit in your life and 
conduct, true dignity of character, and the rich fruits of a 
liberal and Christian education. 

1842. 



ADDRESS III. 

BEAUTY WITHOUT DISCRETION. 

" As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman with- 
out discretion." — Proy. xi. 22. 

In tlie figuratiTe language of the Bible we have tlae 
annuiiciation of a truth to which I would, at this time, 
call your attention. You, my daughters, are to be fair 
women. May you not be of those who in lacking dis- 
cretion, render beauty a disgrace rather than an appro- 
priate ornament to a casket enshrining a rich jewel 
within. Beauty by attracting observation renders the 
want of discretion the more striking. 

But let us consider the metaphor we have selected 
from the "Book of Wisdom." The picture presented is 
that of a swine, the most disgusting, and the least 
respectable (if I may so say) of all animals, wallowing 
in the mire, herding with others as gross as himself, and 
yet wearing in his unseemly snout a rich jewel. 

A fair woman without discretion is the object to which 
this image is compared. We will consider the application 
of the simile, and in pursuance of this object will inquire 
what is meant by discretion, the lack of which reduces 

52 



Solomon's Choice. 53 

a beautiful woman to a level with a brutish swine made 
ridiculous by an ornament, in itself, valuable. But the 
jewel in the swine's snout does not render him other 
than he is by nature and habit ; it does not take from 
him those characteristics which degrade him to the 
lowest rank among the brutes. The contrast between 
that which is in itself beautiful and lovely with the 
disgusting object to which it is attached, draws our 
attention, and what we might without such contrast 
have passed by unnoticed excites our disgust or con- 
tempt. 

The author of the memorable sentence chosen for our 
motto is Solomon ; a man of the most polished manners, 
the most thorough acquaintance with the human heart, 
and especially the female character, of any individual with 
whom the page of history has made us acquainted. 

When God appeared unto Solomon soon after he had 
ascended the throne of his father David and directed him 
to ask whatever he would have, and it should be given to 
him, the young king of Israel, acknowledging with 
gratitude the goodness of God as shown towards his 
father, with filial regard to his memory asked only that 
the promise made to him by God might be fulfilled in the 
prosperity of the kingdom ; and that he might have 
wisdom and knowledge to discharge the duties of his 
high station. God was pleased with this request, and 
said to Solomon, "because this was in thy heart, and 
thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honor, wisdom and 
knowledge is granted unto thee, and I will give thee 



54 Hours with my Pupils. 

riches, wealth and honor, such as none of the kings have 
had that have been before thee, neither shall any that 
come after thee have the like." 

Solomon had remembered the words of his father, who 
in the sight of all Israel and the congregation of the 
Lord, and in the audience of God, had commanded him to 
obey the voice of God, and to serve him with a perfect 
heart and a willing mind, saying, " the Lord searcheth all 
hearts, and understandeth all thoughts ; if thou seek him, 
he will be found of thee, but if thou forsake him, he will 
cast thee off forever." 

The reign of Solomon was brilliant and magnificent, his 
court was filled by ladies of surpassing beauty and accom- 
plishments ; even the great queen of Sheba " came from 
far^^ to hear his wisdom and to see the grandeur of his 
court. We cannot, therefore, say that Solomon had not 
an opportunity of estimating the comparative value of 
beauty and discretion, nor suppose that in his day there 
were not some beautiful but indiscreet women, whose 
actions contrasted with their looks suggested to him the 
image of the jewel of gold in a swine's snout. 

The word discretion is sometimes used as synonymous 
with judgment and prudence — they are qualities nearly 
related, inasmuch as they express the various modes 
of practical wisdom which regulate the conduct of in- 
dividuals in the affairs of life. Judgment is the more 
comprehensive term, as it distinguishes between what is 
right or wrong, in general. Judgment pronounces on 
general principles, discretion on particular actions ; the 



Discretion and Judgment. 55 

latter may therefore be regarded as the offspring of the 
former. Considered critically, we find a difference in the 
meaning of the terms. A judge may decide upon cases 
of law or equity with sound judgment, and yet he may 
act with indiscretion in his own private affairs. Judg- 
ment requires knowledge and experience ; discretion re- 
quires reflection and consideration. Prudence is often 
used in relation to property, as a prudent person may be 
understood to be one who lives within his income, or the 
expression may denote one who is careful in respect to his 
conduct. Discretion takes a wide survey of circum 
stances, it looks to the moral fitness of things as well as 
to the consequences which may result from particular ac- 
tions ; considers their real propriety and fitness as well 
as the advantages which may result from them. Pru- 
dence is rather a negative virtue; it prevents a person 
from exposing himself to danger or harm ; discretion en- 
ables one to do what is right. Still, the words discreet, 
judicious, and prudent, are often applied to the same class 
of actions ; but we perceive on a close analysis a difi'er- 
ence in their signification. 

Why is it that beauty in our sex is so seldom united 
. with discretion, and that so many beautiful women are 
like the swine with a jewel of gold in his snout ? The 
little girl who is handsome is flattered from her cradle — 
mamma's visitors exclaim, " Oh, what a sweet child I 
what bright sparkling eyes, what a beautiful complexion, 
what fine hair and how prettily it curls !" One says, 
" she will be very handsome when she grows to be a 



56 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

young lady ;" another, " she will make many hearts ache." 
The gentlemen tell the child that she must be their little 
wife, and that they are already in love with her beauty. 
She is thus made vain and loses the simplicity of childhood. 
She thinks that beauty is all she needs to make her be- 
loved ; she practises airs and graces before the glass, and 
becomes silly in her actions, and affected in her manners. 
She is unwilhng to learn to be useful because she thinks 
she is made to be looked at and admired. When she 
goes into company she supposes every one is looking at 
her, and fancies she has an important part to sustain ; 
every curl therefore must be adjusted, every dimple in 
motion, and every gesture bespeak that she is a beauty. 
A handsome little girl thus spoiled, may be compared to 
a ;pig with a jewel in his snout ; and she is in a fair way 
of being like the swine through lack of discretion, when 
she becomes afair woman. 

From childhood we must not expect too much. Indeed, 
the term, "to arrive at years of discretion," implies that 
a certain degree of maturity is necessary, in order to 
acquire this virtue. A child may however show, as 
the bud indicates the flower, a cast of character which 
leads us to foretell the future woman. Vanity, self- 
conceit, and imprudence, may be seen in children as 
well .as in those who are older. It becomes of great 
importance that the guardians of the young should begin 
early the work of education, carefully observing unfavor- 
able developments, and seeking to counteract them. The 
period in which indiscretion in girls appears most strik- 



Indiscretion. 67 

ing, is that when they begin to think of the society of the 
other sex, and of forming intimacies with their own. 
How often do such intimacies lead them into great impru- 
dence and folly. Family secrets are revealed to the 
beloved friend — every foolish thought of their own hearts 
is unfolded, and advice of the most improper kind is given, 
received, and acted upon. But indiscretion in respect to 
the other sex is often fatal to reputation and peace of 
mind. There are degrees of folly and guilt in this — there 
are silly attempts to gain attention, actions intended to be 
artful, but which deceive no one. In her eagerness to 
gain admiration, the indiscreet woman often defeats her 
own objects ; for nothing sooner disgusts a man of any 
refinement than forwardness or indiscretion in a woman. 
But, again, if a girl affect reserve and extreme modesty, 
the artifice is seen through, and she receives no credit 
even for the virtues she may possess. There may be 
indiscreet looks, looks that encourage the unprincipled 
to make advances which true female delicacy and correct 
principles would indignantly frown upon. 

Indiscretion may exist in words. Feelings which 
should be governed and suppressed may be allowed" to 
appear, and conversation indulged in which would lead 
to unfavorable inferences respecting a young lady^s 
delicacy and principles. Habits of trifling and flirta- 
tion are indiscreet. There are some young women so 
lost to dignity and sound morality, as to pride them- 
selves on being called flirts : did they know how they 
really appear to persons of sense, they would blush 

3* 



58 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

for their conduct ; they would see that their beauty — if 
beauty they possess — is but the jewel of gold in the 
swine's snout. 

Young women should early acquire a contempt for 
flattery, and a real dislike of flatterers. They should 
seek to be able to converse with gentlemen without the 
flutter of spirits, which results from thoughts of broken 
hearts, or the desire of admiration. Modesty and sim- 
plicity are far more charming than personal beauty, 
which soon fades ; and which, even in its greatest bril- 
liancy, soon ceases to attract where intelligence and dis- 
cretion are wanting. 

"When a man of observation goes into society, he soon 
sees who are the discreet women, and which are those 
that the sacred writer compares to a swine with a jewel 
in his nose. 

There is a beautiful girl standing amidst an admiring 
group — you listen to her words, they are silly and un- 
meaning ; her actions are bold, almost indelicate ; you 
observe the free air with which she is addressed by the 
young men who gather round her ; and as you gaze, 
the words of inspiration suggest themselves to your mind, 
" as a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman 
without discretion.'^ You turn disgusted away — you 
walk in another direction ; — and here, apart from the 
crowd, you meet a pair sauntering in solitary shades, 
apparently forgetful of the crowd around them. You 
might hope here to find a discreet female, but when you 
hear her listening to sentiments of a dangerous tendency ; 



The tkue End of Knowledge. 59 

such as allusions to the pleasures of friendship, unalloyed 
by the cautions of narrow souls or cold-hearted beings; 
you hear her consent to hold a correspondence of friend- 
ship with him who laughs at the restraints of discretion, 
and you again think of the jewel in the swine's snout. 

Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, was indiscreet in going 
out to visit the daughters of the land, when her father 
was sojourning among an idolatrous people. Her indis- 
cretion resulted in her own ruin, and brought great ca- 
lamities upon her family — involving her brothers in gtiilt, 
and her father in sorrow. Let the talents of a female be 
what they may, without discretion, they, too, are like the 
jewel in the swine's snout. Of what avail is it to have 
a penetrating mind which can search into the philosophy 
of nature, explore the mysteries of cause and effect, or 
explain the relations of matter and mind, if one does not 
learn to apply her knowledge to her own conduct, to 
keep out out of danger, and to direct her own ways with 
discretiou. We should know the geography of our own 
hearts, the mechanical powers of our own judgments, and 
be able to analyze our own weaknesses. 

It is indeed the true end of knowledge to gain discre- 
tion, so that we may act according to the dignity of our 
nature, and that beauty, if it exist, may not disgrace the 
possessor by being united with qualities which belong 
rather to swinish natures than to rational and intellectual 
beings. 

An imprudent girl can scarcely be expected to make a 
discreet woman — and when we consider the evils which 



60 Hours with my Pupils. 

are brought upon the world by mothers who bring up 
their children without discretion, by wives whose indis- 
creet conduct causes gloom and contention to hover over 
the family circle, and by women who give to society a 
wrong tone and impulse, can we but perceive the import- 
ance of the young being early taught to govern by dis- 
cretion, their looks, words, and actions ? 

To quote from another, " There are many more shining 
qualities than discretion, but there are none so useful. 
It is this which gives value to all the rest, which sets 
them at work, and turns them to the advantage of the 
person who is possessed of them. Without it, learning 
is pedantry, and wit impertinence — nay, virtue itself 
often looks like weakness. Discretion is like an agent of 
providence, to guide and direct us in the affairs of human 
life." 

December, 1842. 



ADDEESS lY. 

TRUTH AND SINCERITY. 

" She whose honest freeness will make it her virtue to speak 
what she thinks, will make it her necessity to think what is good." 
— Marstan. 

The essential virtues of a good and estimable character 
are truth and sincerity. As counterfeit coin or bank notes 
are without any real worth, so are all affected graces 
and assumed goodness destitute of any claim to our re- 
gard. He who counterfeits money is severely punished 
by the laws of the land ; the artful and hypocritical are 
justly chastised by the contempt of the good, and avoid- 
ed by them, as the honest business-man would shun such as 
traffic in counterfeit money. But most persons wish to 
appear good and amiable in the eyes of others. How 
shall this be accomplished ? The answer is plain ; let all 
strive to render themselves such, as they would be esteem- 
ed ; to he in reality what they would appear to be, and 
then there would be no temptation to deceive, or put on 
the semblance of virtue. Shakspeare makes Hamlet say, 
with honest indignation, " I know not seems ;" happy 
those who are free from all hypocrisy and disguise, all 
seeming to be what in reality they are not. 

61 



62 Hours with my Pupils. 

There is mucli in the conventional forms of society 
which leads to deceit, and should be guarded against. 
One can be civil and polite without expressing warmth of 
feeling when it does not exist ; it is not necessary to 
profess delight in meeting persons for whom we do not 
feel any particular interest ; or to urge such to visit us, or 
to correspond with us. Are there no young ladies who 
meet others with enthusiastic professions of regard, and 
part from them as if they could not endure a separation, 
when in reality, they can join in a sneer against those 
intimate friends ? and do they never use the very confi- 
dence reposed in them against the unsuspecting and in- 
cautious ? Would that such evidences of duplicity were 
not but too common even among those whose youth should 
be a pledge for artlessness and sincerity ! The educator, 
like the physican, must examine cases as they are ; unfa- 
vorable symptoms cannot be overlooked if we would do our 
duty to our patients — or our pupils, and, morally speaking, 
the latter are too often found affected by maladies which 
require firm and judicious moral treatment. 

It is well for the young to resolve to practise what is 
right, without too much anxiety to please others. The 
boundaries between right and wrong are often obscure. 
Thus it is right that we should strive to render ourselves 
agreeable to others, to say and do that which will make 
them satisfied with themselves and with us, as far as we 
can do so without being insincere ; but there are some 
who cannot be happy unless they are flattered ; praise is 
the incense which their hearts crave, and unless this is 



The Flatteree. 63 

constantly offered, they are restless and dissatisfied ; but 
the appetite for praise grows on what it feeds, and can 
never be satisfied. If we have a friend, then, who is not 
happy unless flattered, it is our duty to withhold the 
poison, and to seek by a sincere and honest treatment to 
bring her back to a more healthful state of mind. For 
a time we may be the less agreeable to her ; it may be 
that a lasting prejudice will spring up against us on ac- 
count of our sincerity, but if so, we should be satisfied 
that we have done our duty. 

Flattery among school-girls is too common a vice. If 
one desires the love of another, she too often commences 
by studying her weak points ; and in how many are these 
self-love, fondness for admiration, and an eager desire for 
preeminence. If the youog girl is vain of beauty, the 
flatterer tells her of her personal attractions, what she 
has heard such a one say of her eyes, her features, her 
complexion, or her form. If she is proud of family con- 
nections, or fortune, the flattery is of a different kind. 
The flatterer talks of distinguished persons and the 
advantages of good family, wonders how such and such 
ones should presume to place themselves on an equality 
with those who are entitled to exdusiveness, intimates that 
she is determined to associate with none but those who 
have certain claims to family distinction ; all this, of 
course, feeds the vanity of her who is thus sought out by 
one who is so very particular as to her society. 

Again, another young lady who has no pretensions to 
beauty and makes none as to family or fortune, fancies 



64 Hours with my Pupils. 

herself highly gifted in intellect ; she likes to be told of 
her talents, and is inclined to love those who praise them, 
or who report the praises of others. 

What a sad picture is that of one rational and respon- 
sible being, for selfish purposes, acting on the bad 
propensities of another, where lying, insincerity and flat- 
tery are seen ministering to disgusting vanity or pride I 

If you desire true friendship, seek out a virtuous and 
sensible person, and let your intercourse be marked with 
honest sincerity. Despise that regard which must be 
purchased by a sacrifice of truth, or the ministering to 
the follies and weaknesses of another. One who is truly 
worthy and noble should avoid a flatterer whose selfish 
designs may be easily penetrated. When we hear unpleas- 
ant truths, we should reflect that those who utter them 
can have in this no motive but our own good — unless, 
indeed, we have reason to believe that they desire to 
humiliate us in our own eyes, or to render us unhappy; in 
which case, we cannot consider them as our friends ; 
but the poet says : 

" Your defects fo know 

Make use of every friend and every foe." 

It is one of the most sacred duties of friendship 
though often a painful one, to point out faults to a 
beloved friend ; and when you have an associate whom 
you believe to be your friend though not afraid to speak 
the truth however disagreeable it may be to you to hear 
it, you cannot too highly value her friendship. 



Things which the Loud Hateth. 65 

In the book of Wisdom, we find many passages which 

point out the danger of flattery, the wickedness of 

hypocrisy and lying. 

" A hypocrite with his mouth destroyeth his neighbor." 
" My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." 
" Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any 

bird." 
Among the six things which are enumerated as those 

which the Lord hateth, and which are an abomination to 

Him, are, *'A heart that deviseth wicked imaginations. 

A false witness that speaketh lies, and him that soweth 

discord among his brethren." 

" The opening of my lips shall be of right things, and wickedness 
is an abomination to my lips." 

*' Reprove not a scorner lest he hate thee ; rebuke a wise man 
and he wUl love thee." 

" The wicked worketh a deceitful work." 

" He that speaketh truth sheweth forth righteousness, but a false 
witness deceit." 

" The lip of truth shall be established forever, but a lying 
tongue is but for a moment." 

*' Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but they that deal 
truly are his delight." 

" He that walketh with wise men shall be wise, but a companion 
of fools shall be destroyed." 

" A faithful witness will not lie, but a false witness will utter 
lies." 

" Go from the presence of a foolish man, when thou perceivest 
not in him the lips of knowledge." 

" "Whose hand is covered by deceit." 

" Open rebuke is better than secret love." 



C6 Hours with my Pupils. 

" Faithful are the words of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy 
are deceitful." 

" He that blesseth his friend with a loud voice, it shall be counted 
a curse to him." 

We might go on multiplying examples of a similar 
nature, but these may sufl5ce to show how the Almighty 
regards flattery and deceit. 

Even little girls are sometimes deceitful, and flatter 
others for their own selfish purposes. But a deceitful child 
is an unnatural being. What can be expected of such a 
one when she becomes older, and is surrounded by the 
temptations of the world I 

Flattery is not the only form of insincerity and false- 
hood. Those who have a lying spirit are constantly 
tempted to deceit. In the most trifling things they per- 
vert the truth — they appear not to know what truth is. 

But we meet with many encouraging examples of those 
who have reformed in respect to these habits. The influence 
of education is often powerful in accomplishing such refor- 
mation. Every one who perceives in herself a tendency to 
falsehood, whether in the way of flattery, slander, or for 
any selfish or evil purpose, should betake herself to serious 
self-examination ; she should say in her heart, '' Thou, 
God, seest me," and reflect, that though she may de- 
ceive men, " God is not mocked," but discerns "the most 
secret thoughts and intents of the heart." 

How solemn the thought that the All-seeing Eye is 
ever upon us — that there is not a word on our tongue 
but God knoweth it altogether. We are the temples of 



Secret Sins. 67 

the Holy Spirit, and should not pollute them by deceit or 
guilt, or any other sin. 

Each one of you knows what are your secret sins ; may 
you strive earnestly to be delivered from them, not trust- 
ing in your own strength, but in His might, who can save 
you from the enemy of your soul. How earnestly should 
you all join in the supplication in our school litany, that 
" God will have mercy upon us ; that he will deliver us 
from all the dangers that beset us — from evil and mis- 
chief, from vanity and lies, from the temptations of the 
world, the flesh, and the devil : from hypocrisy and cor- 
rupt examples. That God will bless us, keep us from 
evil, lead us unto all truth, and bring us to everlasting 
life." 

Short is the period allotted to you to prepare for eter- 
nity. How often do you hear of near and dear friends 
called away by death — none are spared — the little infant, 
the playful child, the blooming youth, the strong man, 
the mother in the bosom of her family, the old and grey- 
headed, all — all become the prey of the destroyer. Yet 
we go on from day to day, engaged in our worldly pur- 
suits ; we see death around us, but we feel secure ; we 
are as anxious about the things of this hfe as if this were 
our everlasting home. 

And yet we are as passing strangers and pilgrims 
through a world of trials and temptations. The homes 
which await us beyond the grave will be mansions of 
happiness or woe, as we prepare ourselves here for them. 
God has declared that in heaven " there shall in no wise 



68 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

enter anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh 
abomination, or maketh a lie ;" but they are blessed 
" who do his commandments, that they may have a right 
to the tree of life." 



ADDRESS V. 

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR. 

The return of the season of festivals which has just 
passed bj, brings with it feelings as various as there 
are conditions or states of human life. To the child it 
suggests images of pleasure and mirth ; but often to the 
minds of those more advanced in life, arise thoughts of 
departed friends, and of disappointed hopes. 

Scarcely have the fading glories of autumn become 
lost in the desolation of winter, and nature yielded her- 
self wholly to the influence of the season of ice and frosts, 
when we begin to realize that we are verging towards 
the ancient, and sacred festival of Christmas. So rapidly 
has time passed since the last return of this season, that 
we can scarcely believe another year has fled. On Christ- 
mas day, it is customary in most churches to have reli- 
gious services, and to administer the Holy Sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper to the piously disposed. This seems 
the proper mode of observing the anniversary of our 
Saviour's birth, that the heart comforted by a sense of 
the goodness and mercy of God, may thereby gain fresh 
courage for the trials and the toils of life. 

When nature is blooming and attractive we love to 

69 



70 HOUKS WITH MT PuPILS. 

be abroad, and watch the changes that diversify the 
scenery — the flower-bud as it swells upon the stalk and 
unfolds into a fair blossom ; the foliage in spring gradually 
changing from a light green to a richer shade, and then, 
as touched by the fingers of the declining year, exhibiting 
those gorgeous hues which like the hectic flush on the 
cheek indicate decay and death. When the flowers 
have become fruits, and the fruits are fully ripened and 
garnered for the use of man, then comes the season of 
contemplation, of reflection, and of moral culture. We 
are not tempted to rove abroad by balmy air, murmur- 
ing brooks, sweet flowers, or warbling birds. Our 
thoughts naturally turn inwards, and the state of our 
own hearts becomes an object of reflection. We are led 
to gather around the fire-side, and to think what trea- 
sures of afl'ection and friendship may be ours to fill up the 
void caused by the absence of those enjoyments which 
external nature had so bountifully spread before us in her 
gay and fruitful seasons. 

The beginning of the winter season is a favorable time 
for the young student. His thoughts not tempted to 
stray abroad by external attractions, are more easily 
collected and concentrated. The moaning winds as they 
sweep by his casement, seem to admonish him of the 
shortness of life, and that he is bound to cultivate those 
high intellectual powers which assimilate him to angelic 
natures. He resolves that he will devote himself more 
than he has yet done, to the work of his own improve- 
ment, so that when called to account for the use he 



'OOLTUKE OF THE tSoCIAL AFFECTIONS. 71 

has made of his talents, he may not like the unprofi- 
table servant be found to have " hid them in a 
napkin." 

But mental efforts are for a time superseded by the 
social and religious claims of Christmas and the New Year. 
High and noble as is our intellectual nature it must 
acknowledge in other powers of our souls a superior 
rank. Satan was high in intellect, and so have been 
thousands who have given their souls to him. There is 
the greater condemnation to such as know their Master's 
will, and do it not. 

The social affections need culture as well as the intellec- 
tual faculties, and we may so neglect them that they 
cease to have an influence over our hearts, or to contri- 
bute to our enjoyment. And how much to be pitied is 
that lone being who neither loves nor is beloved I What 
avails it how high he may soar in the regions of lofty 
contemplation or fervid imagination, how deeply his 
mind may be imbued with ancient lore, how intimate 
may be his communion with the spirits of philosophers of 
past ages, or how great may be his delight to wander 
alone down the stream of history and hold converse 
with the shades of departed heroes and statesmen I He 
may indeed enjoy a temporary gratification while for- 
getting what, and where he is ; — but the mind becomes 
wearied with its flights, and the straining of the mental 
eye to look after the dim shadows of the past ; with its 
efforts to investigate the truths of science, or attempts 
to search into the depths of philosophy ; or to penetrate 



Y2 Hours with my Pupils. 

the designs and sejcret motives of the Almighty ; — the 
restless wing of thought droops, and man finds himself 
on the humble earth surrounded by objects as lowly as 
himself — is he not greatly to be pitied if here he finds 
no friend, no companion, to whom he may impart his 
feelings and from whom he may expect sympathy and 
affection I He cannot call from their sleep of ages the 
philosophers and heroes with whom he has delighted to 
wander in the pages of history, and for whose sake he may 
have neglected companions who once courted his scoiety 
and friendship. Alone, he feels how sad is man without 
sympathy, and without affection. We may be pleased to 
spend some time in a gallery of portraits; we may admire 
the skill of the painters, and interest ourselves in the 
characters successively brought before us ; but when we 
have ceased to look and admire, we turn to the friends 
who are beside us, and one look of affection, one word of 
kindness, or one simple loving act, strikes a chord within 
the soul drawing forth deeper and sweeter tones than 
art, science, or philosophy can produce. 

The returns of Christmas and New Year, these social 
and religious festivals, have a happy influence in reviving 
those affections which are often chilled by the world with- 
out, and smothered by selfishness within. Children love 
Christmas and New Year's day, because they are then 
more especially remembered, and made to feel by the 
gifts and attentions of the season, that they are beloved. 
But children who love these days merely for the sake of 
giftSf are selfish indeed ; and it is to be feared that too 



Christmas Offerings. Y3 

many think more of the presents they receive, than they 
do of the affection which offers them. We should value a 
kind look or word dictated by love, more than the most 
costly offering without affection ; and if those who have 
nothing else to give, offer their good wishes with the 
sincerity and warmth of friendship, such as are capable 
of sympathy will respond to their greetings from the 
depths of their hearts. 

While Christmas calls on all who have friends to mani- 
fest for them a kind remembrance — if they are near, to 
seek their society, if distant, to send some token of their 
love — it most especially reminds mankind of Him, who 
gave Himself for them. On this day we celebrate the 
birth of Christ. To Him, therefore, should our thoughts 
ascend in thanksgiving and adoration. We should, if 
opportunity presents, go to the Holy Communion, where 
the professed followers of the Redeemer meet to comply 
with His dyiog request : "Do this in remembrance of 
me." It is here that the Christian gathers new strength 
to encounter the spiritual enemies who would draw him 
away from G-od. Here he not only presents himself, but, 
in his supplications, all who are near and dear to him. 
He intercedes with his Saviour that they, too, may enjoy 
that '^ bread of life which came down from heaven," and 
be fitted for a better and happier world by the toils and 
trials of this. 

Going from the worship of God and the communion of 
the church, the sincere Christian will feel a renewed love 
for his fellow-beings, those for whom Christ died, and who 

4 



74 Hours with mt Pupils. 

are loved by Him. A feeling- of benevolence, of holy 
serenity, and of trust in God's mercy and goodness, goes 
with the pious Christaiu as he returns from the sanctuary 
to mingle in the social circle. The merry laugh of child- 
hood, the innocent gaiety of the young, their harmless 
sports, their songs, and their dances, are not, in his view, 
opposed to any of the requirements of religion ; whose 
great command it is to "love your neighbor as yourself," 
to "do unto others as you would they should do to 
you," and which declares that " love is the fulfilling of 
the law." The same religion says, "let all anger, and 
malice, and revenge, be put away from you." Every- 
thing, therefore, which tends to promote love and kind- 
ness, and to repel malice and anger, is sanctioned by re- 
ligion, and we need have no fear that we are acting con- 
trary to its dictates when we indulge in innocent enjoy- 
ments which tend to sweeten life, and to dispel from it 
that gloomy acerbity by which the heart of man is too 
often possessed. 

We have remarked that the Christian may indulge in 
innocent amusements. The question arises as to what 
may be considered innocent. On this subject there are 
various opinions; and because amusements in themselves 
innocent have been perverted, many Christians condemn 
all as sinful. We would observe that our conduct in this, 
as in many other msQS, should be governed by circum- 
stances. If we were likely to grieve Christian friends by 
doing that which we consider innocent, we should, never- 
theless, from regard to their feelings, refrain from the 



Pleasuee not the Object of Life. 75 

act, since it would not be sinful to abstain from joining in 
the amusement. 

There are, however, imprudences into which the young 
are liable to fall when they give way to the social and mirth- 
ful feelings — they are then often thrown off their guard, 
and do that which they afterwards regret. 

After the season of holidays, you are now again to 
pursue your studies, and to engage in a regular routine of 
duties. There may be among you some who would wish 
that holidays might last forever. There are young per- 
sons who love pleasure better than duty; to whom the 
desire of improvement is unknown. Unhappy they whose 
minds are incapable of noble aspirations, who are 
ignorant of the pure and tranquil enjoyment connected 
with intellectual cultivation, and the consciousness of 
moral excellence. We would call upon such to look 
to their mental diseases, to forsake the follies which 
confine them to the low condition in which they have 
hitherto been contented to rest. We will draw two 
pictures — pictures made with words, but which you 
can see with your mind's eye, as if delineated on can- 
vas. Let us look at the young person who considers 
pleasure as the chief good : her outward aspect evinces 
her tastes — for the intellect and the heart are read in the 
expression of the countenance. The vacant look, the 
meaningless smile, the withdrawal from the glance of others 
as though unwilling to have the perverted heart and 
the empty void of mind exposed to the view of pene- 
trating observation ; the indifference with which in- 



76 Hours with my Pupils. 

struction is received ; the evident wandering of the 
thoughts as seen in the expression of the eye ; the 
listlesS; dreamy manner which says, louder than words 
could do, " Would that this lesson," " this address," or 
** this sermon were over." She who loves pleasure 
more than moral excellence, thinks not what is best for 
her, but what she likes to do. Let us pause a moment, 
and consider to what will all this tend. Think of your . 
unpardonable neglect of past advantages — that a little 
space remains to you in the which to repair your past 
errors, before launching forth upon the sea of life, where 
you will need habits of self-control, power over your 
inclinations, and the knowledge and accomplishments you 
have now an opportunity of acquiring. Can you not 
shake off the lethargy in which your soul has been bound, 
and spurn the trivialities which choke the nobler senti- 
ments of your nature. Say to yourselves, *' Old things 
with me shall pass away, and all shall be new. ^^ I will he 
changed ^^ — resolve this, be firm to your purpose, and your 
work is done ; you have bought your own freedom from 
that worst of all slavery, the thralldom of the mind. You 
may yet be able to take your place among the good, 
the noble-minded, the candidates for a glorious and happy 
immortality. 

Let us turn to the brighter picture. — We see a young 
person whose object is to do right, to improve all her facul- 
ties as due to the author of her existence, and to the earthly 
parents whose hopes are centered in her. She lives day 
by day in the full consciousness of her great responsi- 



Beauty not Material. 77 

bility as a rational, immortal being. She listens atten- 
tively to instruction, her eye kindles as her mind receives 
light. The sparkling of intellect is vivid and apparent 
as is the flame npon the hearthstone ; but how infinitely 
more sublime is the beaming forth of mind than material 
light ! She whom we picture to you may not be beau- 
tiful, as some count beauty ; she may be plain in features, 
her complexion destitute of the rosy tint or alabaster 
whiteness; her eye may not be dazzling black, or *' softly, 
beautifully blue " — but when the light of the soul 
illumines her countenance, beams forth from her eye and 
plays over her features, how infinitely superior the 
charm to that of mere material beauty I The dolls that you 
left at home in your nurseries had sparkling eyes, regular 
features, and beautiful white and red complexions ; they 
were very pretty, you liked to look at them, and to fancy 
that you loved them, and that they loved you ,• but as 
you grew older, they ceased to interest you. You felt for 
them no afi'ection, you did not esteem or respect them; 
but you do not now despise your dolls, they were only 
efQgies, incapable of moral agency, not like yourselves, 
accountable beings, and to be blamed or approved ac- 
cording to bad or good conduct. 

There is a fearful weight of responsibility resting upon 
each of you, whether you are willing to acknowledge it 
or not ; whether you choose to keep it out of your 
thoughts or not, it is the same — your youth will soon pass 
away. Days will come, should your lives be prolonged, 
in which you will be called on to care for others, to set 



Y8 Hours with my Pupils. 

good examples to those who may be connected with, or 
dependent on you ; and then, how soon will come the 
decline of life, and old age I Then all that remains to 
render you interesting and valuable to others, will be the 
fragrance of virtue and piety ; and all that can give you 
light for the future, will be the hope of happiness in the 
world to come founded on a well-spent life. 

May these solemn truths inspire you all with ardor to 
begin anew your journey of life ; to do better than you 
have yet done. May those who have been careless of 
duty and regardless of instruction, begin in earnest to 
search after true wisdom, and may those who have felt 
feeble desires after that holiness, without which none can 
see the Lord, be stimulated to renewed efforts. 

A New Year has come — we have lived to greet its arri- 
val. Where shall we be, and under what circumstances, 
at its close I A startling question I Varied scenes of 
trouble lie before us, this is certain, for it is the inevita- 
ble doom of man. 

" Lord, so teach us to number our days that we may 
apply our hearts unto wisdom." 

Close of 1843, and commencement of a New Year, 



ADDRESS VI. 

PLEASURE AND DUTY. 

We are again assembled, my dear pupils, after a short 
Euspension of duty; and you have already resumed your 
accustomed occupations. Pleasure has resigned her sway, 
and duty, less attractive but more honest and sincere, has 
taken the helm. 

Pleasure and duty ! how opposite sound these words to 
the ears of the young, and how different are the emotions 
with which they regard the one and the other. Most of 
you have doubtless read the beautiful allegory from the 
pen of Mrs. Barbauld, where a young girl is accosted by 
two personages, the one representing Pleasure wreathed 
with flowers, and radiant with smiles ; the other, of a 
serious aspect, and presenting no attractions. Pleasure, 
in silvery tones, tells of the delights she will give ; but 
Duty uses no flattery, she acknowledges that her path is 
not strewn with flowers, but she tells the fair girl of man- 
sions of rest and peace to which this straight and narrow 
way conducts. The child hesitates, for Pleasure is bright 
and beautiful, fascinating and enticing ; while Duty is 
stern and unattractive, so inelegant and unfashionable 
that the heart revolts from her acquaintance. Both hold 

79 



80 Hours with mt Pupils. 

out their hands to the young girl. Pleasure's sweet and 
inviting smile wins her heart, and she is about to follow 
lier — when a sudden gust of wind blowing aside the 
beautiful robe of Pleasure, torn and filthy rags appear 
beneath : as she tries to conceal them by drawing around 
her the folds of drapery, the mask with which her 
features were disguised, falls ofi", and discloses a haggard 
and disgusting aspect, marked with the deep furrows of 
evil passions. The child shudders, draws back her hand, 
and turns to Duty. For the first time, she now perceives 
a pleasant smile irradiate her countenance, as she draws 
closer to her side, and embraces her, and in her compan- 
ionship in the journey of life, she obtains that which the 
devotees of Pleasure seek in vain — peace and happiness. 
Yes, even in sorrow and afdiction, she who loves and 
follows duty, enjoys that sweet peace " which, as the 
world giveth not, neither can it take away." 

Yet it is well, sometimes, to relax from the calls of 
duty, and try how happy we may be with nothing to do, 
hut to enjoy. The change at first is pleasant ; our spirits 
are exhilarated, and our hearts beat with a quickened 
pulse ; but we soon weary of doing nothing. The young 
do not care to sleep always, though no matin bell call them 
to duty; nor can they eat always, though every dainty 
be spread before them. We begin to feel, after an inter- 
val of indulgence, that we must exert ourselves even to 
be happy; we must do something even to secure pleasure. 
Is it not, theti, wise that the efforts which the constitu- 
tion of our minds impels us to make, should be directed to 



Something to do. 81 

something useful ? Thus, while we are obeying a la,w of 
our being, which obliges us to be active, we are doing 
good here, and laying up treasures in heaven 

You have all, I doubt not, in some degree, shared the 
feelings of one of your teachers. Miss , who accom- 
panied me in my late journey to E ; perhaps it was 

almost the first time in her life that she commenced an 
undertaking which had not some immediate duty con- 
nected with it ; and it was so with this, in one sense, 
since it was in obedience to the dictates of affection for 
her young friend, just settled in domestic life, that she 
made the visit. She was going to see, in her own home, 
one to whom she was devotedly attached, and to meet 
with others from whom she had received particular marks 
of esteem. For a day or two, she was no longer the 
impersonation of serious, sincere and laborious duty, but 
joyous and almost gay. She ran about the pleasant 
apartments of her happy young friend, delighted with, 
and enjoying all. " How pleasant," said she, "if we 
could always stay here I" After a few days, our friend 
says again : " It is tiresome to do nothing but visit and 
see company." 

I cannot suppose that you, who are younger, less 
habituated to be active in well doing, and who have left 
your homes and their dear inmates to return to school, 
did not feel regret at leaving them; but yet, I am sure, 
were the appeal made to your own consciences, you would 
say that you are, in reality, most truly happy when you 
are doing what seems to be your duty. 

4* 



82 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

Since we last met, we have passed another anniversary 
of the birth of our Saviour. Eighteen hundred and 
forty-three years have passed since Jesus of Nazareth 
was born in a stable, in the obscure town of Bethlehem, 
in the Roman province of Judea. 

Far in the eastern Asiatic country, the tradition had 
spread among the Gentiles, or heathens, that a remark- 
able personage was to appear on the earth, about that 
period. The Jewish scriptures, though not received by 
those nations, had, yet, disseminated among them many 
religious truths ; and the prophecies respecting Christ 
seem to have been better understood by the magi, or phi- 
losophers of the East, than even by the Jewish rabbins, 
or doctors of divinity. While, therefore, the Jews were 
reposing in their indifference as to the fulfillment of the 
prophecies respecting a Saviour, the eastern magi, who 
were also astrologers or observers of the heavens, being 
surprised by the appearance of an uncommon celestial 
body, followed its direction until they came to the city of 
Jerusalem. They then inquired : " Where is he, who is 
born King of the Jews, for we, in the East, have seen his 
star, and are come to worship him." King Herod, a bad 
and ambitious man, was much troubled at this, and col- 
lecting the doctors of divinity, or chief priests and 
scribes, he demanded of them, where, according to the 
Scriptures, Christ should be born ? The answer was : 
" In Bethlehem of Judea." Herod was much troubled at 
these things, and pretending that he himself wished to 
worship the infant Saviour, desked that the magi would 



The ITativitt. 83 

go and search, and when they had found him, send him 
word. The star went before, and guided them until it 
stood over the place where the young child was. At 
this, they rejoiced greatly, and withheld by no infidel 
scruples, they fell down and worshipped him ; after which, 
according to eastern customs in offering homage to a 
sovereign, they presented rich gifts, *' gold, frankincense, 
and myrrh." A glorious light from heaven appeared also 
to some shepherds of Judea, who were watching their 
flocks by night ; and while they were wondering and 
afraid, the angel of the Lord appeared unto them, and 
said : " Fear not, oh, shepherds 1 for behold I bring you 
good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all jpeojpk ; for 
unto you is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the 
Lord ; and this shall be a sign unto you, ye shall find the 
babe wrapped in swaddling bands, lying in a manger." 
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the 
heavenly host, praising God, and saying : " Glory to God 
in the highest, peace on earth, and good will towards 
men !" 

Having seen this glorious vision, and heard the chorus 
of the angels, the shepherds hastened to go and see the 
wonderful babe of Bethlehem ; and they returned, "glori- 
rifying and praising God for all the things that they had 
heard and seen as it was told unto them." Well might 
Mary ponder these things in her heart, and regard her- 
self as highly favored among women, though, instead of a 
luxurious chamber, she lodged in a stable, and the cradle 
for her babe was but a manger, "where horned oxen fed." 



84 HOUES WITH MT PuPILS. 

Shall we not, with the magi, the shepherds, and the 
host of angels, come to offer our gifts to the Saviour of 
the world ? He requires of us no costly offerings, but a 
"broken and contrite heart he will not despise." He 
asks only our love, gratitude, and devotion, for the salva- 
tion he has procured for us. He has purchased our 
redemption with his own blood ; he offers us pardon for 
our sins, and that peace which he left with his disciples ; 
he offers us those mansions in heaven which he went 
to prepare for us ; he only asks that we will go to him 
for the charter of our freedom from sin and death. He 
stands with open arms ; will we not go to him, will we 
not,accept his offer of mercy and salvation I 

Since our separation, we have all parted with a friend 
who has been with us, daily, since the commencement of 
the past year ; who has seen us, by turns, happy and 
dejected ; and who, though he has seen us disappointed, 
has, every day, whispered of something better on the mor- 
row. Though we may have been indifferent to this 
friend, and often wished him gone, still we could not bid 
farewell without emotion. We know that he has kept a- 
strict account of what we have been doing ; and his 
tablets are now registered at that tribunal before which 
we are to all appear in judgment. 

The year 1843 is this friend, now passed into eter- 
nity, to give evidence either for or against us. Have 
we well treated its successive portions of time, its 
365 days ; — have the twenty-four hours of each day no 
record against us, of trifling actions, idle words, and evil 



Importance of Minutes. 85 

thoughts ? Even one little minute may rise up against 
some of us, and say : " I heard you, as I was passing, 
speaking words to blast the name and character of 
another ; the blush upon your cheek proclaimed that you 
were conscious of the falsehood you uttered, and a dark 
spot which I saw as I looked through the window of your 
heart, betrayed the stain of envy upon it." Another 
minute may say : " As I was passing, I saw you, at the 
hour of devotion, bending low at the name of Jesus. I 
was happy, for I thought my testimony would be in your 
favor; but I saw cold unbelief in your heart, and passed on 
to give my account." Still, another minute proclaims its 
message : " I saw you bending in prayer j your lips 
murmured the name of God, and all around you sup- 
posed you worshipped him ; but it was all hypocrisy,' 
God was not in your thoughts ; at His bar you must 
answer for such profanation." 

And are minutes, then, able by their testimony to fix 
our everlasting destiny ? Alas ! of what may not even 
one passing minute have to accuse man I 1,440 of these 
winged messengers to eternity, look in upon us in one 
day ; 535,600 of these witnesses, either for or against us, 
have passed on to the bar of God since the last year 
dawned upon us. New minutes are now coming to take 
their rapid observation of our thoughts, words, and 
actions ; let us make friends of them as they pass, so that 
the coming year may depart freighted with friendly mes- 
sengers to the throne of our final Judge. 

With respect to earthly happiness, it is vain to disguise 



86 Hours with my Pupils. 

the fact that we have not much to expect; we should not, 
therefore, be too anxious to know our future fate. The 
pages of time, as they are successively unrolled, must pre- 
sent to all human beings some dark passages, and in many 
cases there may be little light to relieve the picture. 

But if we raise our eyes, we may see in heaven a star 
of hope ; let us follow its guidance, and we shall be led 
to those regions of eternal happiness, " which eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the 
heart of man to conceive." 

January, 1844, 



ADDRESS yil. 

RELATION OF THE PRESENT TO THE FUTURE. 

How little* do we realize, as day after day speeds on 
and finds us in one place, that the period will come when 
all around us will be changed ; when familiar faces will 
be no more seen ; and that many loved ones now with us 
will become as strangers, travelling far distant from us 
in life's pilgrimage. They may be called from earth without 
our being near to bid farewell, or to cheer with our sym- 
pathies and prayers the fleeting spirit in its fearful jour- 
ney to eternity I 

If such thoughts sometimes occurred to the young as 
they mingle with their school companions, how differently 
would they, often, conduct towards them. If the pupil 
realized the separation from a teacher, and that the 
time would come when the voice of that faithful and 
anxious friend would be no more heard, and when that 
countenance would be lost forever, how differently might 
her instructions and admonitions be received I 

But we cannot live in the future. It is the law of our 
nature to feel as if to-morrow would be as this day. 
Thus in sorrow and adversity, we despond of relief ; and 
in prosperity, we think not of evil days to come. Still, 

87 



88 Hours with my Pupils. 

there are principles implanted in our hearts, which lead 
us to make use of the present, in reference to the future. 
Reflection and reason are ever ready to suggest the im- 
portance of making preparations for the changes which 
we know await us, and the more the character is under 
their influence, the more will be the effort to act in refer- 
ence to a future which may seem distant, but which, if we 
live, will surely come, and come, quickly, too. The school- 
girl is tempted by her love of ease and present enjoy- 
ment to pass lightly over the duties assigned her. She is 
more pleased to talk and amuse herself with her young com- 
panions than to study. Habits of industry and order, of 
self-restraint, and of untiring diligence are not agreeable 
to her inclinations ; present gratifications invite, and the 
future the uncertain future has little influence. The one 
is here, the other /d^r off ; — is it strange that the young are 
carried away by temptations, and yield themselves up 
to the alluring present ? 

But the future, the inexorable future, comes, and demands 
" what hast thou laid up for me ? Thou knowest that 
time was given thee to prepare for me. So I come to 
demand an account of thy stewardship ; — where are the 
talents that thou hast received ?" 

How solemn this inquiry I yet there is no getting away 
from it. The future will come, in some way. The grave 
itself cannot avert its claims, but in those dread regions 
which lie beyond, the question will come from the judg- 
ment-seat of God, " What preparation hast thou made 
for the eternity on which thou hast entered V Will the 



What to do next. 89 

answer, " I could not school my heart to the love of 

religion, I coald not incline myself to follow the footsteps 
and commands of Jesus " — will this answer be sufficient at 
the bar of God ? " Inasmuch as ye did it not,^^ ye shall be 
condemned. 

From the first dawnings of reason, to the last day of 
life, we should keep the future steadily in view. The sit- 
uation next lefore us, or for which we seem, at present, 
destined, should engage our attention ; and our effort 
should be to prepare for it. The daughter at school 
should study how she may best conduce to the happiness 
and comfort of her parents, and that of the family 
circle — she should consider what defect there may be 
in her character, disposition, and habits, which would 
annoy, or in any way affect, unpleasantly, that circle 
which she will soon join, and which she should desire 
to enliven and make glad. Those who are looking 
forward to become instructors and guides of others, 
should consider the many qualities of heart, the princi- 
ples and habits, as well as the intellectual attainments, 
which will be required in that responsible relation. All 
should inquire and learn, as far as possible, what prepara- 
tion will be suitable for the journey of life before them ; 
and inasmuch as they know not the paths by which they 
may be led, the companions who will journey with them, 
the moral climates, whether warm with affection or cold 
with distrust or dislike, through which they may pass, 
they should lay up everything which may become necessary 
or useful, so far as they have the opportunity to make ac- 



90 HOUES WITH MT PuPILS. 

quisitious. In one part of the journey of life, habits, 
quahfications of heart and intellect may be called into 
exercise, which, in another stage, may seem scarcely 
needed ; while under other circumstances, new virtues or 
attainments may be necessary, to comfort, success, or re- 
spectability. Education is designed to furnish the young 
with a rich variety of resources, which may be available 
in the various conditions of this uncertain life. 

A wife protected by a fond and indulgent husband 
who has the means of supplying her not only with the 
comforts, but the elegances of life, has little need for 
those sterner and more masculine qualities, which would 
be necessary under a change of circumstances. Should 
she become a widow, charged with business responsi- 
bilities, obliged perhaps to appeal to the laws, in order 
to maintain her own rights and the rights of her 
children, exposed to impositions, and frauds which would 
take from her family all their means of support, she would 
then require firmness of purpose and decision of charac- 
ter, in order to keep together the fortune bequeathed to her 
and her fatherless children ; or, if fortune be wanting, she 
would require industry and ability to labor for their sup- 
port. Is it not, then, desirable that a woman shall possess 
some qualifications for business, a head to calculate, and 
judgment to discriminate ? 

Education, while bestowing feminine accomplishments, 
cultivating the graces of mind and person, and fitting the 
young lady for polite and elegant society and to be an in- 
teresting and lovely companion, should also strengthen 



Abridging the Period for Education. 91 

the character of the future woman, so that she may be 
capable of acting any part in life which the Providence 
of God may assign her. In connection with these reflec- 
tions, I would, my dear pupils, call your attention to the 
importance of your prolonging the period of your school 
education, when the circumstances and kindness of your 
parents, or your own resources, enable you to do so. Un- 
fortunately for the welfare and intelligence of future 
women, young girls are often anxious to abridge even the 
short time allotted for school education. The love of 
change, the idea of pleasures to be derived from society, 
or a fondness for home, are strong inducements acting 
upon the mind and influencing it to decide against a con- 
tinuance in school, when parental indulgence leaves the 
choice to the pupil herself. But think of the future ; not 
the few months, or the one or two years immediately 
before you, for in these you might not feel the want of 
the advantages you would sacrifice ; but think of future 
life, and of the calls it may involve of rich stores of 
knowledge, which may be applied to varying circum- 
stances; and think how important that your characters 
shall have acquired some strength and solidity before en- 
gaging in those scenes of life, where temptations and trials 
too often prove fatal to happiness, if not to reputation 
and virtue. 

When the proper period comes for the termination of 
your academic life, you have then to begin a new set of 
duties, to put in practice lessons you have been learning — 
you will commence a new school — and may you go on 



92 Hours with my Pupils. 

improving while life shall last, fitting yourselves for a 
never-ending state of happiness, and for the society of 
pure and elevated intelligences in a higher sphere of ex- 
istence. 

1843. 



ADDRESS VIII. 

STABILITY OF MORAL PRINCIPLE THE ONLY SECURITY FOR 
THE YOUNG IN THEIR INTERCOURSE WITH THE WORLD. 

In addressing my pupils it is proper that present scenes 
and duties should often furnish the themes of discourse ; 
but these must not be permitted to occupy our chief at- 
tention ; we should sometimes look forward to the future, 
that we may keep in view the great object of forming 
your character for the coming duties of life, that we may 
best learn the precautions which should be taken against 
the dangers and temptations of the world, and what 
securities can be furnished for the right fulfillment of duties. 

The great mistake of the young, and too often of those 
who are intrusted with their education, is that of enter- 
taining false views of the qualifications to act, well, a part 
in the complex, and ever-changing scenes of life. 

What are these qualifications ? Notwithstanding all 
the importance that may be attached by your parents 
and teachers to the learning of schools, or knowledge of 
books and of things, and to the possession of certain 
accomplishments, yet none of these is the first and 
great requisite for a faithful discharge of the duties of 
life ; — this is 'principle, correct, firm, moral principle, 
based on religion and having the love and fear of 

98 



94: Hours with my Pupils. 

God for its end and aim. " The fear of the Lord is the 
beginning of wisdom." Those who have not this fear, 
have not begun to be wise, however great their other 
attainments may be. 

There are few parents who do not begin early to 
teach their children their obligations to love and fear 
God ; but such is the imperfection, the sinfulness of 
human nature, that the pious lessons of parents are often 
counteracted by examples in direct variance with their 
own instructions. A parent, perhaps, requires a child to 
learn the ten commandments, and to repeat them as 
the solemn requirements of God. The child learns 
first that he shall not have any God before the Lord, 
Jehovah ; but he sees his parents making a god of riches, 
of fashion, or of worldly honor, and as example is more 
powerful than precept, he is led away from the strict ap- 
plication of the words ; and seeing the very first com- 
mandment set at naught by those to whom he looks up 
for direction, he is not surprised at observing the whole 
decalogue disregarded and disobeyed. 

Even the most pious and conscientious parents often 
fail in their duty of practising what they teach, and 
thus become stumbling-blocks to their children, instead of 
lights to guide them in the path of virtue and holiness. 
If it be so with parents who are striving " to live an 
uncorrupt life," " to speak truth from the heart," and 
" do the thing which is right," how must it be with those 
who think little of duty, and who are engrossed wholly 
with the cares and projects of a worldly career ? 



Pbecept without Example. 95 

It is not, then, strange that children with sinful hearts 
and propensities to evil, witnessing the little regard to 
principles of truth and virtue in those around them, should 
increase in years without growing in grace and in the 
knowledge of God. The circumstances by which they 
are surrounded are calculated to obscure in their minds the 
pure light of truth, and to gild with a false lustre much 
which is worthless when unaccompanied with the sub- 
stantial elements of virtue. 

You are urged on in your studies, and think, perhaps, 
that the great point is, to become good scholars ; that in 
order to appear respectable in life, you must acquire 
knowledge, and be familiar with such accomplishments as 
are common to well-educated and refined ladies. Educa- 
tional institutions that send out the best scholars, usually 
gain most celebrity, while little popularity may be 
attached to a school on account of its influence in render- 
ing its pupils moral, virtuous, and pious. How unfortu- 
nate that parents, in general, so greatly err, as to the true 
and permanent interests of their children ! Teachers who 
are influenced by worldly motives only, will, of course, 
devote their chief efforts to what their interests prompts; 
and perhaps urged by the necessities of their condition to 
cater to a corrupt popular estimate, they pass by the 
great essentials of education, and devote themselves 
wholly to what will yield them the greatest amount of 
present applause and profit. The attainments of a pupil 
in various branches of literature, or in elegant accom- 
plishments, may be striking, and elicit admiration, but 



96 Hours with my Pupils. 

improvement in her disposition and principles is not 
discovered at once ; this is to be unfolded in the varying 
scenes and circumstances of future life. To know, in after 
years, of one who was a pupil here, that she is a good 
and useful woman, filling with dignity and fidelity the 
duties of her station — this will be a reward for the cares 
and toils of education : may this indeed be mine as 
respects those who are now before me. 

The excellent Hannah More remarked, that from seeing 
the manner in which girls were educated, one would 
think that life was a succession of holidays, and that the 
great object was to fit them for the games, shows, and 
amusements with which it was to be occupied. But let 
us look at life as it is, not as the wild imagination of the 
young may paint in glowing hues which fade into 
sombre shades before the touch of truth and reality. 
According to the customs of fashionable society, a young 
girl on leaving school is "brought out,''^ or "finished," as 
by the common absurd phraseology. She is a young lady, 
passed from the bud to the blossom ; and she must now 
forget much that she has been learning, and learn new 
lessons in the school of the world. She considers herself a 
candidate for admiration, and expects the homage of 
flattery; a feverish anxiety for attention in society natu- 
rally takes possession of her mind, she becomes one 
among the giddy crowd who throng the temple of plea- 
sure, and on the altar of their idols, fashion and vanity, 
offer the sacrifice of health and of their heart's best 
affections. The debutante having looked forward with 



The young Debutante. 97 

eagerness to her introductioQ to society, very naturally 
imagines that others partake of her own feelings, and 
that such an important event must cause a great sensa- 
tion in the world — or at least in her own circle, which 
she imagines to be the first and most important in the 
world. She scans her own appearance with anxious 
care ; regards with scrutinizing looks her complexion, 
features and form; her mode of walking, standing, sitting, 
and dancing are subjects of deep concern to herself and 
perhaps her parents. The latter, perhaps, blindly over- 
looking the realities of hfe, which it would seem experi- 
ence might have taught them, regard with undue interest 
their daughter's entree into society, and the impressions 
which her coming out may produce. In all this anxiety 
to discern external attractions, and fears lest they may 
be counterbalanced by defects, is there no concern for the 
soul, no inspection of the heart, no dread of evil passions 
taking root there, and deformities which may offend the 
eye of the all-seeing God ? Such questions addressed to 
worldly parents and unreflecting daughters, might be met 
with a smile of contempt ; as if the wisdom of this world 
were enough, and to be scrupulous ia respect to the 
means of gaining its favor or its pleasures, were to throw 
away the real, seen, and known advantages, for imaginary, 
or, at least, far distant benefits. The devotees of the 
world, however they may profess to believe, are practical 
atheists, denying by their conduct that there is a God 
who watches over the actions of men, and who will judge 
them not only for the deeds done in the body, but for the 



98 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

thoughts and intents of the heart. Let ns trace the 
young debutante through her flowery path of pleasure for 
a season or two, to satisfy ourselves whether her expecta- 
tions even for this period are answered. 

We know full well that nothing is more illusive than 
the idea of the great interest which the world takes in 
the affairs of a particular individual, and that one, a 
young girl, with merely youth and youthful attractions to 
recommend her to notice. For the want of something 
better to talk about in fashionable circles, the appear- 
ance of a new candidate for admiration may be made a 
subject of conversation; but will she receive unqualified 
praise ? If beautiful, she may be condemned as vain; if 
graceful, as affected in manners ; if frank and ingenuous, 
she will likely be called imprudent; and if cautious, art- 
ful. If, to be agreeable to the many, she talk on com- 
mon-place topics, she may pass for one who has a shallow 
intellect ; if she introduce into fashionable circles, lite- 
rary or religious subjects, she will probably be shunned as 
pedantic or bigoted. If she should have admirers, she 
will be called a flirt ; if she should have none, she will be 
pitied for her supposed disappointment and mortification. 
If the young lady who has anticipated so much from her 
introduction into the world of fashion, or what is called 
society, possess sensibility and principle she will soon 
perceive that there is a competition going on there, in its 
nature calculated to chill the better feelings of the soul; 
that under the mask of affected benevolence, and desire of 
promoting mutual happiness by bringing to the common 



Tkials of a Belle. 99 

stock, pleasure and enjoyment, are concealed frightful 
passions, " envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitable- 
ness," from which we daily pray to be delivered. After 
the labor of so many years, such great'expense of time 
and money to gain accomplishments that may secure 
triumph and admiration, after the toil and anxiety of 
preparing the person for the public, the young lady per- 
haps finds herself receiving far less attention than some 
one whom she regards as her inferior; innocent, that 
one may be, of any intentional wrong to her, but morti- 
fication will naturally give rise to jealousy, which be- 
gets hatred. 

Allowing, however, that our young lady is decidedly 
the belle of a short season or two, that she has had a tri- 
umphant entree into the highest circle, is regarded as the 
brightest star in the constellation of fashion, can we sup- 
pose that even for that brief period she is happy ? If 
she possess penetration, she will see how heartless and 
vain are the homage and admiration of those, who, like 
the butterfly flit from flower to flower, selfishly seeking 
pleasure and amusement, wholly indifferent as to the 
effects of their heartless attention upon the future happi- 
ness of those whom they may choose to flatter. For it 
must be remembered that in the world of fashion and 
folly, are seldom found men of true sensibility and scrupu- 
lous morals. The game that is there goiog on, forbids 
such from becoming initiated in the mysteries of *' high 
life/^ where weak principles are tested by the artful 
and designing, where fortune attracts, and where modest 



100 HODKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

merit, unaccompanied by wealth or some prestige whicli is 
an equivalent for wealth, can find no place. We will sup* 
pose our young lady has become quite accustomed to fash- 
ionable life; she has gained her place among its votaries 
— but what has she not lost I Late hours, imprudence in 
dress, exposure to the impure atmosphere of gaslights 
and crowded assemblies, and the dainties of luxurious 
banquets, at length undermine her health. The fresh- 
ness of youth has faded, her spirits are no longer buoy- 
ant; she has grasped the thorn, but the rose has withered. 
And the warmth of affection, the simplicity of heart and 
the conscientiousness of principle which were seen in the 
school-girl, are they, too, lost ! We fear so, and yet they 
may have only been blighted ; a timely escape from the 
ways of folly, and a return to healthful influences, may 
revive the affections, and rouse the conscience. 

In that career, so deleterious both to the physical and 
moral nature, the aspirant for fashionable distinction 
before becoming a victim to the world, may be early 
arrested by the voice of conscience and withdraw herself 
from evil influences, while she has yet the power of 
regaining in some degree what she has lost ; — before she 
shall have suffered the chagrin of being considered passee, 
neglected by the world for which she has sacrificed 
herself. How pitiable the woman of the world, whose 
seared heart and vitiated taste render her incapable of 
enjoyments which spring from intellectual pursuits, or 
the exercise of the affections ! If single, she will be 
forlorn and neglected ; if a wife and mother, how much 



Education never Finishetd. 101 

to be commiserated are those who are dependent for 
happiness or virtue on her faithfulness or conscientious- 
ness. 

And now, my dear pupils, do any of you think you 
would ever wish to encounter all these evils for the dis- 
tinction of being a belle in fashionable society ? Yet you 
hear too much said even among those who should beware 
of giving you false impressions, about " introduction into 
soddy^^ or in vulgar parlance, as we sometimes hear, 
" turning out " — or of ^^ finishing your education^ But 
why talk of finishing, when the education can never be 
finished I Even the angels and the spirits of the just in 
heaven are continually progressing in knowledge and 
virtue. The period of school education must terminate : 
but so far from considering this termination as the era in 
which reflection, labor, and self-denial are to cease, it 
should be regarded as that period which calls upon the 
young to lay aside childish things, to assume new respon- 
sibilities, and engage in new duties — to begin, in earnest, 
to contribute to the happiness and comfort of those who 
have been laboring and caring for them, and to act their 
part in the drama of life, as those who must give account 
hereafter, before the great Judge of all. 

1844. 



ADDRESS IX. 



CHANGE. 



Change is inscribed on everything around us. Physical 
nature is constantly in a state of transition ; nothing 
here is fixed, nothing is permanent. The earth itself is 
continually in motion — on its axis, around the sun, and 
carried with the system to which it belongs around some 
unknown centre. The solid rocks upon the earth gradu- 
ally decay and crumble into dust — their remains enter 
into the composition of plants, which in their turn, be- 
come constituent parts of animals. Again, the decom- 
position of animal substances furnishes the nourishment 
of plants ; and from gases evolved from both plants and 
animals, minerals are formed. The anthracite coal we 
burn, which is considered a mineral substance, is formed 
from the remains of vegetables. The vast mines of bitu- 
minous coal of our country bear indubitable marks of hav- 
ing once been forests of trees ; while the beds of peat 
coal found so extensively in England and Ireland, and 
some other parts of the world, are well known to be of 
vegetable origin. 

Observe an acorn ; take it up in your hands and ex- 
amine its structure — it is a little brown seed ; strip it of 

102 



The Acoen — The Infant. 103 

its outer covering ; there is a softer substance which 
seems on examining to be composed of two parts joined 
together, and inclosing a minute filament ; this is an oak 
tree ! It contains within its tiny dimensions the yast 
roots of that monarch of the forest, with its trunk, 
branches and foliage; and, moreover, the germs of future 
generations of plants I From this small seed, time, under 
favoring circumstances, will develop the perfect, full-grown, 
majestic tree ; and other trees in succession, while the 
earth endures. 

Behold the little infant reposing in its cradle, uncon- 
scious of its own existence, and enjoying a mere animal 
life; the most helpless and imbecile of all young creatures. 
But what mighty intellectual energies slumber within that 
tiny form; what noble moral qualities 1 — and alas, it may 
be, what deep depravity lies there I Time, time, moving 
on with rapid strides, touches all things in his progress ; 
and as he touches, a change, comes over them. 

But let us come nearer to ourselves, let us note the 
changes which we have experienced in our persons, our 
minds, and in our condition. The period of our helpless 
infancy and early childhood is as dark to our memory as 
the years beyond the flood. The germ of thought in the 
infant mind is gradually developed, like the unfolding 
embryo of a plant. Emotions of love, anger, grief, and 
joy break in upon the animal existence ; — reason and re- 
flection come later; and conscience is last to assert its 
claims to direct the thoughts and actions of a being des- 
tined to immortality. First, is the physical nature; then 



10^ Hours with my Pupils. 

appear the passions; next, the reasoning powers; and 
lastly, the morale or that higher development of mind 
which proves man to be a free moral agent, with a guide 
inherent in himself, which, if duly regarded, may conduct 
him through this vale of tears to regions of immortal 
blessedness. 

Slowly does conscience work its way through the in- 
cumbent weight of appetites and passions — and often are 
the hearts of the parent and educator saddened at the 
little progress which the moral emotion seems to make in 
the mind of the child, or the pupil. Some children seem 
early to be conscientious ; they have a dread of committing 
sin, and a desire to know their duty ; others appear to be 
wholly governed by their animal nature, or their passions, 
and to care little for what is right or wrong, provided 
they are gratified in their desires. 

Man has a middle nature, he is a connecting link be- 
tween angel and brute. In proportion as he allows him- 
self to be controlled by his appetites and passions, he is 
assimilated to the lower order ; the more he obeys the 
dictates of conscience, the higher he rises in the scale of 
being and the nearer he approaches to angelic perfection. 
It is hard to burst the bonds of sinful and depraved ap- 
petites and passions ; but if we would rise to the dignity 
of which our nature is capable, we must make the most 
powerful efforts, and seize hold of every aid which may 
be within our grasp to assist us in the great conflict. 

The young are sent abroad to school that they may 
learn to live a new life. The scenes of their early child- 



Development. 105 

hood are the scenes of the gratification of their love of 
animal indulgences ; for, as the infant gradually develops 
into the maturer child, and the child approaches the 
years of adolescence or youth, the change is so imper- 
ceptible, that in many cases, a corresponding change in 
respect to fewer indulgences, and more rigid demands of 
exertion and self-sacrifice is not made by the parents; 
until, suddenly, the truth flashes upon their minds that 
their child will soon arrive at the age of manhood or of 
womanhood, wholly unfurnished with habits of self- 
government or restraint. The neio life which he must 
immediately commence, preparatory to his entrance into 
the world, can better be begun in new scenes, and under 
new circumstances; and the child is sent away to be 
trained for the stern duties which await him in life, 
to be taught to govern his inclinations and control 
his passions, and to give the higher nature within him 
an opportunity of expanding and strengthening under 
more favorable circumstances. 

It is not, therefore, a cause of surprise to see pupils at 
first discontented and uneasy — the same self-indulgence 
allowed them at home is not here permitted. The morn- 
ing sleep, so sweet to the young that when not disturbed 
it is often prolonged to a very late hour, must be in- 
terrupted — the kind mother or indulgent nurse does not 
in the gentlest tones of entreaty beg that the darling will 
open her eyes to the morning light and favor the house- 
hold with the beams of her sweet countenance, but the 
loud and commanding tones of the rising-bell, proclaim 

5* 



106 Hours with my Pupils. 

that the rules must be obeyed, that Patapsco expects her 
daughters to do thek duty. Conscience doubtless whis- 
pered to the dilatory girl, when her faithful nurse was 
coaxing, or her fond mother entreating, that she ought to 
rouse herself and shake off the drowsiness which claimed 
such unreasonable indulgence ; but habit was too strong, 
it overcame the feeble struggles of conscience; — but giYe 
to this faculty a fair opportunity of gaining strength, and 
you will find yourselves more and more able by its power 
to fortify yourselves against temptations. 

Another indulgence which children often enjoy at home, 
is that of luxurious living. The first thing in the care of 
the infant is to cause it to receive nourishment ; the child 
as it becomes older is fed on what it likes, and its tastes 
are consulted. Habits of sensual gratification are thus 
formed, which must in more mature life be corrected, 
or there can be no dignity of character. Health and 
reputation are in danger of being sacrificed where the 
animal nature is allowed to preponderate over the 
intellectual and moral. It is hard for the pampered 
children of indulgence to change their habits of luxurious 
living, and to conform to the simplicity and regularity so 
essential in an educational establishment. Yet you can 
bear witness that early rising, and regular and simple 
meals, promote health of body and activity of mind. You 
have experienced how sweet is the consciousness of doing 
your duty. 

That when you first entered upon this life of duty and 
discipline you found it hard and often disagreeable, we can 



Changes in the Physical Woeld. 107 

well imagine ; bat every day it becomes to you easier — 
conscience, which before was weak and inactive, begins 
to wax stronger. You feel more self-respect, a greater 
approbation of yourselves. 

If we are injured we cannot be miserable while con- 
scious of our own innocence, and that we have no cause 
to conceal or blush for our conduct. It is far better to 
suffer wrong, than to do wrong ; and though we may not 
always avoid being injured, we can avoid being, ourselves, 
guilty, for, in respect to moral goodness, we can in a de- 
gree become what we desire. God has made us free 
agents, and we can blame ourselves only for our own mis- 
deeds. 

Since we met together to commence the duties of the 
session, the time has passed rapidly away ; constant 
occupation has accelerated the flight of days, weeks, and 
months. 

The changing aspect of the physical world is a con- 
stant admonition to us. In spring, we are pleased with 
the promises of nature, and soon the vegetable world is 
in full vigor and activity. Flowers everywhere sur- 
round us ; they come back, the old friends and acquaint- 
ances of former years ; and the woods and turfy lawns 
are enamelled with beds of violets, claytonias, and ane- 
mones ; the gardens are ornamented with the crocus, daf- 
fodil, and hyacinth ; the bright fleur-de-lis, lifts its head 
as if to ask our welcome, and roses blush on all sides, 
loading with their fragrance the passing gale. As the 
season advances, new troops of flowers come forward in 



108 HOTJKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

forest, wood, and dell, and the gardens and shrubbery 
present new attractions ; but as the blossoms of the 
spring pass away, so quickly fades the summer bloom, 
and autumnal flowers of richer hues, but less delicate 
texture and less fragrant odors, take their place. But 
the frost-king watches with envious gaze the remaining 
beauties of autumn, and soon snatches them from the 
sombre landscape. 

The fading beauties of autumn are dear to our hearts ; 
we love its pensive hours and its sad associations, as we 
love to linger around the couch of departed friends, who 
must soon leave us to find perennial spring beyond these 
changing skies. 

As the glowing hues of autumn are the precursor of 
dissolution, so do we know that the hectic flush upon the 
cheek of a dear invalid is as the fading glories of the 
autumnal foliage, before it returns to the dust from 
whence it was formed. 

But to the good there is no terror in the dissolution of 
the bodily tenement ; death seems a friendly messenger 
to those who think upon it as the entrance into a nobler 
and happier state of existence. The seasons have their 
changes ; moral beings have theirs also ; how is it with 
yourselves? Are you becoming more assimilated to an- 
gelic perfection ; better fitted for a heavenly home, as 
you advance farther on in life's journey ? If so, no 
matter how soon you may be called — ^you are ready to 
go. 



ADDEESS X. 

A MODEL CHARACTER. 

While we regard the formation of the moral character 
as of the first importance in education, there are other 
requisites which should not be disregarded. And yet, the 
young are liable to so many faults of disposition, so often 
perverse and wanting in the first principles of integrity 
and honor, that in conducting their education, we are in 
danger of neglecting these lesser matters, which, in their 
intercourse with the world, are to constitute, in a degree, 
their respectability and success in life. "We will now con- 
sider our young lady as having formed her character, as 
to morality and religion. She reverences her Maker and 
His laws, she has resolved to follow Christ in the ordi- 
nances of His appointment ; she is truthful and honor- 
able ; careful not to offend others, or injure the feelings 
of any by neglect, by a haughty bearing, or by speaking 
unkindly ; she is a peace-maker, and would do all in her 
power to reconcile those who are at variance, never 
repeating words which might wound the feelings of 
another, except for the high and noble object of doing 
good to that person, by showing a fault to be corrected, 
or an error to be abandoned. We will give to our 

109 



liO Hours with my PuriLS. 

young lady these qualities of heart, and add thereto a 
high cultivation of intellect, a good literary education. 
What parent would not be happy in such a daughter ; 
what educator would not rejoice in such a specimen of 
his work 1 

But the pure gold needs shaping and polishing that 
it may become ornamental. So our good young lady 
must not be neglected, as to her shape, and polish. Nature 
has given to each individual a peculiar form and coun- 
tenance, but each one may do much towards modifying 
her shape, complexion, and even features. Habits of 
stooping injure the figure, and impair the digestive 
organs. The spine becomes curved when it is habitually 
kept in a crooked position. The shoulders are brought 
forward and the lungs, and other vital organs, are im- 
paired by continual stooping. When you sew, write, 
draw, or practice the harp or piano, you should be care- 
ful not to bend over, or hold your figure in a constrained 
position. When you stand, let it be with your chest 
expanded, shoulders back, and drawn down rather than 
pushed up at the expense of shortening the neck. - Many 
ladies, with no more than ordinary forms, are called 
elegant, because they know how to carry themselves, and 
to make the best of their persons. If girls would practice 
the direction given to soldiers to make them straight, 
and show their figure to advantage, we should not have 
so many crooked, awkward-looking women as the present 
age exhibits. Proper physical exercises are too much 
neglected, and there is the more danger of this where the 



Physical Exercises. Ill 

mind is directed to mental improvement. Here, you have 
dancing and calisthenic lessons, the great use of which is 
to improve the physique in health and grace. As to the 
mere learning to dance as an accomplishment in society, 
there is much to be said against this, as well as something 
in its favor. And I will here add, that though you may 
be taught fashionable dances, it is not s^ipposed that 
you are to exhibit yourselves in them at public places. 
Men of sense regard with severity, young ladies who give 
themselves up to the fascinations of these dances. The 
queen of England forbids them at her court ; they are not 
danced even in Paris, with the freedom used in this 
country. Many attempt them without knowing how 
they should be performed; and exhibitions, offensive to 
delicacy, are often seen at dancing parties ; the per- 
formers, themselves, may be quite unconscious of the 
appearance they present, or the unfavorable impressions 
others may form of them. 

Eemember that the form can be affected by habits of 
stooping, and ungraceful attitudes may become habitual. 
The teeth are injured by too much indulgence in eating 
confectionery ; the complexion, by the free use of rich or 
gross food, and by neglect of proper exercise. Is not the 
very expression of the countenance greatly modified by 
the habitual temper and disposition ? 

A peevish temper shows itself in a morose expression; 
a haughty disposition by harsh cast of countenance; 
while a mean and insincere character appears in the 
downcast and stealthy looks which seem to fear observa- 



112 Hours with my Pupils. 

tion. Would you be handsome ? The old saw that 
" handsome is that handsome does," has much truth in it, 
even in its literal sense. Would you have a good form ? 
Hold yourselves upright, and do not act as if you were 
afraid to show yourself as you are ; but be erect in your 
carriage, as you would be wpright in your actions. If 
you would be called "sweet," a term coveted by young 
girls, you must be amiable, for a sour disposition cannot 
make a sweet face. 

Drtss is an important subject to our sex at any age; 
and at yours, especially, assumes a serious aspect. " What 
shall I wear V is the great question. And yet, others, in 
reality, mind much less about our dress than we think for. 
A simple dress is always respectable; it should be neat; 
and may be genteel and fashionable. When the hair is 
luxuriant, as is usually the case with the young who are 
healthy, it is not well to load it with ribbons or ornaments 
of any kind. 

Dress should be adapted to the occasion. In travelling, 
custom exacts a strict regard to certain rules. There 
are few who do not know that it is exceedingly improper 
to appear with ornaments, in travelling in public convey- 
ances — as stage coaches, railroad cars, steamboats, etc. 
At hotels, it is better not to appear with an elaborate 
toilet ; such dress gives the impression of persons who 
see little society at home, and put on their best attire in 
order to attract the notice of strangers. Americans 
have been ridiculed by foreigners for this showing off at 
the talles-fPhbtc. 



Dkess. 113 

In Europe, with few exceptions, meals are taken by 
travellers in their private apartments — an unsocial custom 
certainly, but better than in travelling to be obliged to 
dress magnificently for a hotel dinner. I am not now to 
give you a treatise on dress, but would lead you to reflect 
on some principles respecting it, which are too often lost 
sight of by a young person on her entrance into the 
world. 

But we are supposing a model-young-lady; — she has been 
improved by intellectual culture, possesses an elevated 
moral character crowned by consistent piety. She has been 
instructed to take care of herself, and make the most of 
the personal advantages God has given her. She knows 
how to walk, to turn her toes out at a proper and grace- 
ful angle, to hold herself straight, and to make the most 
of her figure — so that, if tall, she does not seem ashamed 
to acknowledge it ; or, if short, she may show that she 
can, notwithstanding, hold her head up. And she must 
be amiable, sweet tempered, obliging, so that upon her 
countenance rests, habitually, a sweet expression, not put 
on for effect, but an emanation of the spirit within. She 
is not afraid to look others full in the face, because she 
is conscious of no deceit, no meanness, no wrong to any. 

We will now send our model-young-lady away from 
these quiet shades. We are to suppose that after the 
best of maternal teachings and examples, she has been 
carefully educated. — She must go out into the world at- 
tired in modest garments, gracefully worn. 

Our model-young-lady knows how to take care of her- 



114 Hours with mt Pupils. 

self, and her belongings ; she can pack her trunks, and 
take care of her keys ; she can be ready, at a short warn- 
ing, to accompany her friends on excursions of pleasure, or 
a tour to Europe. She is like a pleasant sun-light in 
the family circle, and diffuses happiness around her. 
Her manners are gentle and refined; and yet she has en- 
ergy and decision of character, so that in emergencies of 
danger or difficulty she may be relied on for presence of 
mind. She knows how to talk, and how to listen to 
others. 

She has learned how to behave at table, does not use 
her knife when she should use her fork, is polite, and, 
when proper, can be helpful to those who are near her. 
She does not scream in public places, or private houses, to 
show that she is no longer a school-girl. No, she is ca- 
pable of judging as to propriety, and acts at all times in 
conformity with the present situation. 

Does our model-young-lady need anything more than 
she is now furnished with to make her the favorite of so- 
ciety ? Will she not be sought for in marriage by ad- 
mirers, and cherished as the beloved of her own sex ? 
Alas — we have neglected to endow her with wealth I She 
is not rich — and so, perhaps, the world may pass her by ; 
while the glittering charms of fortune bring suitors to 
the feet of those who may have neither charms of person 
nor of intellect to boast of, the real gem is neglected. 
But our model-young-lady was early taught the potency 
of wealth to gain the friendship of the world, and in- 
structed to set a just estimate upon this friendship. She 



Want of Foetune. 115 

does not consider marriage as necessary to her happiness 
or respectability in tife. If in the intercourse of society she 
has been approached with appearances of particular re- 
gard by one to whom she might have become attached, 
had she believed him in earnest in his addresses, she has 
strengthened her resolution to keep her own heart, re- 
membering what she had often been told by one who had 
watched over her education with maternal care, " Young 
ladies with fortunes have more suitors than lovers ; those 
without fortunes may have lovers who are not suitors^ 

Our model-young-lady is prepared to fill that station 
in life to which she may be called — if necessary, she can 
be a governess, and introduce into families who have 
more wealth than education, a higher standard of charac- 
ter. She is a blessing wherever she goes; — she is not 
afraid of being an old maid : she makes the most of her- 
self and her condition, and God will bless her in this world 
and fit her for a better ; — by trials if they are needful, for 
whom He loveth He chasteneth. 



ADDRESS XI 



WISDOM. 



Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore, get wisdom, and with 
all thy gettings, get understanding. — Ecclesiastes, chap. iv. 7. 

When you entered this school, you were severally 
examined as to your progress in learning, and classed 
according to your attainments in different branches of 
study, as languages, geography, arithmetic, philosophy, 
chemistry, etc. It is probable that most of you have 
thought your sole business at school is with these varied 
branches, or the accomplishments of music, drawing, 
etc. But suppose, instead of examining you as to your 
progress in various scholastic studies, you had been 
questioned as to your proficiency in self-government , truth- 
fulness, and piety, what answers could you have given ? 

To commence with self-government, suppose you had 
been questioned whether you had yet learned this art — 
whether you knew how to control yourselves, so as to do 
those things which are right, and to exclude from your 
minds all evil, vain, and improper thoughts, could you 
have answered, " I am perfectly acquainted with the art 
of self-government ; my conduct is always the result of 

116 



Self-goveknment. 117 

reason ; I have no need of trying any more to learn how 
to coutrol my feelings ?" 

Would not conscience, the rather, have prompted you 
to say, "I do not yet understand self-government ; I 
must make that one of my studies ?" You might have 
remembered with sorrow and penitence, the tears you 
had caused a tender mother or friend, by anger, obsti- 
nacy, or some other evil passion which had led you to 
behave contemptuously, or unkindly, towards those who 
were devoted to your happiness. Perhaps, even while 
you were preparing to leave home to come to school, you 
evinced displeasure because all your wishes were not 
gratified. You may have wanted some article of dress 
that your parents thought beyond their means, or unne- 
cessary for you, and you may have appeared unamiably 
on account of their refusal. You may have wished to 
learn some accomplishment, thought too expensive, or not 
required for your condition in life ; the refusal to accede 
to your wishes may have excited resentful feelings, and 
unpleasant words, or unkind looks on your part, may have 
wounded your kindest and best friends — those who may 
be making great sacrifices to give you the advantages of 
education. Consider, each one of you, whether you have 
been thus guilty in any degree, and in your next letters 
to your parents ask their forgiveness, not neglecting to 
humble yourselves before God for your faults, and join 
yourselves to the class for learning self-government. 
Consider whether you are making any advances in this 
science. If you find yourselves easy to be provoked with 



118 HOUKS WITH MY PdPILS. 

your companions, or forward, and impertinent to your 
teachers, you need not flatter yourselves that you are 
improving. It is when you are able to subdue the rising 
temper, to command your looks from expressing anger or 
contempt, and your tongue from uttering harsh words, 
though your spirit be agitated within, that you can truly 
feel conscious of possessing the power of self-government. 
We cannot expect to pass through this rough world with- 
out meeting with much to disturb our peace of mind, and 
equanimity of temper. 

In proportion as we can govern ourselves, we may 
influence others. It is not easy to be calm when assailed 
by anger and injustice; but it is the part of wisdom to 
keep down our own passions, that we may, at least, be 
sane, though others be unreasonable. What an advan- 
tage is afforded by equanimity of temper ! The master 
or mistress who gives way to violent passion loses the 
respect of the servant who may be property by legal 
right, but whose mind cannot be fettered, and who will 
at heart give honor only where honor is due. 

One of the branches of wisdom we consider is the 
power of self-government. Another branch of wisdom is 
truthfulness, without which there can be no dignity or 
worth of character. And here self-examination is neces- 
sary ; for truth lies deep in the heart, if there at all. 
You must learn to know and respect her in her humblest 
guise, as well as in her Sunday garb. Truthfulness 
either does, or does not, belong to a cliaracter. With- 
out it there is an empty void in that region of the 



Want of Truthfulness. 119 

heart from which proceeds all that is good and estima- 
ble. 

It might seem that where truthfulness is wanting it 
would be useless to attempt to improve a character ; 
and indeed it is a most discouraging labor to attempt 
to imbue with good desires a heart where there is 
not a firm sub-stratum of truthfulness. But the edu- 
cator must not be discouraged by obstacles. And the 
young, thank God, are not yet so hardened in evil, that 
we may not hope much from cultivation. But you must 
aid me in this work. You would all shrink from being 
called insincere, hypocritical, and false; but you must 
look closely into your words and actions, and not try to 
deceive yourselves as well as others. 

We have a straight and narrow way before us, in con- 
sidering what truthfulness is. We will first examine our 
subject negatively. One is not truthful who attem^Dts in 
any way to deceive others, or to give false impressions ; 
in the class-room, to pretend to know a lesson that is 
not learned ; in social intercourse, to affect friendship 
which is not felt ; in chapel, to seem to worship God, 
because it is reputable to do so. To attempt to enume- 
rate all the artifices and deceits which even the young 
may be guilty of, in trying to assume virtues which they 
do not possess, and hiding their real faults, would present 
a fearful list ; we pass them by, urging upon you all, 
that self-examination which constitutes the vital point of 
character. 

We will suppose you are intent on gaining wisdom. 



120 Houiis WITH MY Pdfils. 

and have entered into the truth-class ; if you have done 
this with full purpose of heart, we shall have courage in 
proceeding to help your efforts. You are to begin by 
hating all kinds of deception, and resolving to be truthful 
and sincere, let consequences be what they may. In the 
various relations in life, nothing so soon destroys peace, 
harmony, and confidence, as the discovering that around 
and about us, is a false and deceitful spirit. Many a 
woman has rendered herself odious in the eyes of her 
husband by petty concealments, or false pretences, even in 
trifling matters. " If she will violate truth in small things," 
he may reason, " what can I expect in more important 
matters ?" Women are, it is true, dependent, and such 
a state may lead to hypocrisy. In some families, a 
mother has been known to use artifice, in order to supply 
her daughters with articles of dress, or indulgences which 
the father was unwilling or unable to afford them ; what 
can be expected of such daughters I 

It requires moral courage to be able at all times to 
speak the truth ; but you should fortify your minds on 
this point by reflecting on the denunciations of Scripture 
against lying and deceit ; you should fear the reproaches 
of your conscience — or still more the hardening of this 
conscience, so that it would cease its warnings. If, when 
you are young, you allow yourselves to indulge in artifice, 
you may be assured the vice will grow upon you as you ad- 
vance in life; what you perhaps did merely to amuse others, 
or gratify what you thought a harmless vanity, you will 
do to serve the purposes of self-interest, until you will bo- 



Tbe Wisdom-class. 121 

come confirmed in habits of lying and dishonesty. As yir- 
tues cling together and are found in companies, so it is 
with vices ; and one who does not speak the truth will 
become familiar with other sins. 

A noble dignity of purpose will serve to keep you in 
straight paths; admitting no thought of concealing your 
conduct, you will be careful to have your actions such as 
you would not blush to have exposed. Walking on in 
life with an upright and sincere mind, you can have no- 
thing to fear. Poverty is not disgrace, persecution is not 
infamy; and no affliction can be truly a misfortune to the 
good, those who fear not to look others in the face, and 
who walk uprightly through the varying scenes of this 
transitory life. How comforting to be able to feel self- 
respect — but how miserable one who is conscious that if 
his real character were known, he would be despised ; 
who knows that he has deceived and betrayed those who 
trusted in him, and that truth is a stranger to his heart. 

Wisdom is the principal thing. You perceive that 
you must learn self-government and truth as important 
branches of this great science, and will join the class 
which we hope to form for learning and practising them. 

We include honesty with truth, because they usually 
go together. The dishonest person will lie to conceal his 
guilt, and the liar will not, generally, scruple to take that 
which belongs to others. If you have fault-marks, do not 
attempt to get rid of them by palliating or excusing what 
you have done ; excuses are too often lies, or lead to them. 
Tf you have failed to write letters to your friends when 

6 



122 Hours with my Pupils. 

you should have done so, do not say you have had no 
time, or try to invent excuses. Do not make false pro- 
fessions of friendship, or, by flattery, minister to the weak- 
nesses of others. Though in the common intercourse in 
life, politeness requires a certain degree of respect to all, 
yet with this there may, and should be, sincerity. You 
should never urge persons to visit you unless you desire 
it, and never promise to write letters unless you intend to 
fulfill your engagement. As pupils at school, in letters to 
friends at home, say nothing but truth ; do not make a 
serious matter of a slight indisposition, or cause alarm 
by needless complaints ; study truth, and with all your 
study, gain habits of truth. 

Piety is a branch of wisdom ; and this must be sought 
for as for hid treasure. If brought up from childhood in 
the fear of God, happy are you ; if you have this great 
thing to learn, you have no time to lose, for life is un- 
certain, and this is the preparation required for the world 
of spirits, to which we are hastening. If your hearts 
are not yet anchored surely upon a firm religious hope, 
put yourselves in a class with those of your companions 
who are seeking to find God, and to love and serve Him. 

When you meet witli Christians, to worship God, are 
your hearts filled with a sense of His greatness and good- 
ness, and of your own unworthiness ? 

Would that when assembled for religious worship, 
there were among us, no vacant, careless looks, no ap- 
pearance of restlessness or inattention, indicating indiffer- 
ence to the solemn duties in v^iich all profess to engage. 



Piety. 123 

Those who love God delight in His service, they love 
his words, his Sabbaths and ordinances ; if jou feared 
Him, you would never dare to trifle when his presence 
is invoked. When a room-mate kneels down to offer her 
prayers to her Father in heaven you should feel a solemn 
sense of the presence of God, and abstain from anything 
that might disturb her devotions. 

Example is powerful ; a pious pupil may do much 
towards influencing others ; one who would trifle with 
religion and religious subjects, cannot fail of doing much 
harm to the consciences of others ; things that they 
would not have dared to think, much less to do, may be- 
come familiar, till they cease to feel compunctions of 
conscience. Consider these things, your influence over 
each other, the importance of habit, and of your joining 
yourselves to a class for learning to think and act right. 



1843. 



ADDRESS 511. 

OPENING OF A SUMMER SESSION, 

L^ tlie good proYidence of God, we are here assembled, 
my dear pupils and co-laborers, after a period of separa- 
tion, to renew our efforts in gaining or imparting know- 
ledge. Yet, ere we become absorbed in present duties, 
it is well to suspend our attention on the immediate 
objects before us, that we may look back upon the past, 
and forward to the future; that we may consider the 
principles by which we should be guided in our connection 
with each other, and the bearing which this connection 
may have upon our future destiny, not only in this world, 
but in that hereafter, which stretches into an illimitable 
eternity. 

The Institution with which we are connected, has 
received attention from the public, and been favored with 
success. A combination of happy circumstances has 
tended to give it elevation and permanency of character. 
Among these circumstances, I would mention the favor it 
has received from the State legislature, which, by its 
liberality, enabled the Trustees to carry out their own 
views in respect to building, by giving the necessary con- 
veniences, and adopting that classic style of architecture, 

124 



Literary Institutions. 125 

BO well suited to the locality. The State has distin- 
guished this Institute with especial favor. We are bound 
to do all in our power to honor Maryland by the high 
character and utility of our Institution. The first and 
highest honor to any community is good literary institu- 
tions. These are the jpride and glory of the New Eng- 
land States ; with their granite mountains and barren 
rocks, their frigid climate and hard soil, -what would 
these States become without their excellent schools and 
colleges ? There is nothing in the air of New England 
more invigorating to the intellect than the pure breezes 
of our Patapsco, with its hundred hills covered with the 
ancient forest-trees, verdant with the carpeting of nature 
or rich with waving grain, presenting rare scenes of gran- 
deur and beauty. 

We, my dear pupils and honored associates, are bound 
to do all in our power to establish this institution on a 
firm and permanent basis, so that at home and abroad it 
shall command respect and confidence, and we shall in 
so doing, add something to the dignity of the State to 
which it owes its existence ; — and, if from this place 
shall go forth a future generation of women superior 
to the frivolities of fashion, trained to habits of industry, 
order, economy, and piety, enlightened in intellect and 
fitted to be companions and advisers to the future 
legislators and citizens of this and other States, then 
should we well repay the fostering care of Maryland and 
prove useful to her in promoting the best and highest 
interests of our common country, and united republic. 



126 Houks with my Pupils. 

We will, 671 passant, make some remarks upon the sys- 
tem of education here pursued, and the principles by 
which the government of our Institution is administered. 
Our monitorial system is an important feature in our dis- 
cipline. This differs entirely from what is popularly 
called the ^^ monitorial system," where one pupil is em- 
ployed to teach another. In our system, every pupil 
who is of sufficient age and judgment to be intrusted 
with the office, is, by turns, monitor for a day. Her 
duty consists in enforcing the rules of the school, and in 
reporting all breaches of such rules. These rules are the " 
guide of the monitor, nothing is left to her caprice, preju- 
dice, or partiality ; if her most intimate friend be found 
guilty of a breach of rule, her duty is clear, a fault-mark 
must be given, or she will be found unfaithful to her 
trust. If, through prejudice, a monitor gives a fault- 
mark when it is not deserved, the injured party has the 
privilege of appealing to the presiding teacher, and if 
dissatisfied with her decision, to the Principal ; and it 
would be disgraceful to a monitor to be found to have 
abused her power, and the confidence reposed in her. In 
thus employing monitors, we recognize an important prin- 
ciple of morality, differing essentially from the code of 
honor which is often proudly vaunted by young men, but 
which is, undoubtedly, the baneful source of most of the 
rebellions, expulsions, and other evils which disgrace 
male institutions. This code of honor prescribes that no 
student shall expose another to the officers of an Institu- 
tion, let the nature of his offences be what they may. 



Moral Courage. 127 

Such a principle carried out in society, would shield from 
detection and punishment, the thief, the incendiary, and 
the murderer. Baneful indeed is this principle in its 
effects; it is the opposite of that true moral courage which 
is fearless in exposing evil when such exposure is neces- 
sary to the well-being of an individual or a community. 

We would discriminate between the fulfillment of duty 
in reporting breaches of established rules, or the expo- 
sure by one pupil of what is imprudent or wrong in an- 
other through a desire of preventing evil and producing 
good, and thQ,t impertinent tale-bearing by which one 
pupil would degrade another in order to raise herself, or 
with the view of obtaining the favor of her superiors. It 
requires little penetration to see through such motives 
when they exist, and the pupil acting under their influ- 
ence would ever meet with repulse and disgrace among 
teachers who are judges of character, and are, themselves, 
influenced by high and honorable sentiments. An espion- 
age upon the actions of another with the secret intention 
of injury to the individual, should never be confounded 
with the exposure of an evil, which, if persisted in, would 
be the cause of disgrace to an institution and injury to 
its individual members ; to conceal this, would be like see- 
ing poison mingle(J with food without giving notice of it, 
or a fire consuming our neighbor's house without sound- 
ing an alarm. What would be our surprise should an 
individual defend such a course on the ground that tale- 
bearing was dishonorable ! It is by going back to first 
principles, that we may, in morals, keep in the straight 



128 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

path of claty. First principles ia morality are, in the 
conduct of life, as the axioms in mathematics, to which, 
as we proceed in demonstrations, we are obliged continu- 
ally to refer. 

To "do right ^^ should ever be our motto, and when we 
know w^hat is right we should pursue it, even though the 
path may be beset with difficulties. Yet, in reality, the 
right way is not only the shortest, but in general the 
most easy and pleasant. If any should doubt whether 
the 'faithful discharge of the office of monitor has a tend- 
ency to lead the young to mean espionage or to low tale- 
bearing, may the dignified deportment and open frankness 
of the pupils of this institution ever repel the suggestion. 
Observe closely whether such as are most fearless in the 
discharge of monitorial duty, or rather such as have 
most moral courage, are those who are given to *' evil 
speaking, lying and slandering." Would you choose for 
your friend and companion, one who would be true and 
honest — who would be fearless to tell you of your faults, 
when it became her duty to do so — select the faithful and 
impartial monitor who will do what is right, even though 
duty might require her to give evidence against her dear- 
est friend. 

When the monitor lays aside her office and is no longer 
bound to report breaches of duty in her fellow pujjils, she 
may still aid in promoting good order by her advice and 
example. Having experienced the pain caused by the 
task of reporting offences, she will naturally be careful 
not to subject other monitors to the same trial. 



Faults. 129 

Some of you, after a season of relaxation, return to 
accustomed scenes and pursuits, others come as strangers 
to an institution, many of whose rules, customs and modes 
of pursuing studies may appear new and strange. From 
former pupils we may reasonably expect a strict atten- 
tion to all duties that from experience you know will be 
required ; we may expect to find in you a reasonable 
degree of improvement in mind, manners and morals; 
knowing as you do the rules of the institution, and feeling 
as we would hope an interest in its prosperity, we may look 
to you to aid in establishing good order. Eeceive the 
strangers who have come to us from so many distant 
homes as friends, and by your kindness and attention 
gladden their hearts, so often saddened by thoughts of 
the friends they have left. 

Each school session, each day and year, should be made 
"a critic on the last," and where you can perceive you 
have erred in the past time, be the more watchful for the 
future. Has your fault been that of indolence, of wasting 
in frivolous thought, or dull inactivity of mind, the pre- 
cious hours which when past can never be recalled ? Has 
it been that of irregularity in your duties ? Have you 
indulged yourself in anger, impatience, and a spirit of 
contradiction ? Have you suffered yourself to be led 
from the straight and narrow path of prudence and duty 
to follow bad examples, or allowed yourself to be influ- 
enced by those whom you should have had resolution to 
resist ? And, finally, do you perceive in reviewing the 
past that you have often left undone what you should 

6* 



130 Hours with my Pupils. 

have done, and have done what you should not have 
done ? Pray to your Father in heaven to enable you in 
the future to avoid what is evil and to do your duty bet- 
ter than you have done. To those who have come as 
strangers among us, I would address words of encourage- 
ment and advice. Many things now appear to you 
strange, and what is strange is often unpleasant. So 
much are we the creatures of habit, that even if a change 
be for the better, we are often slow to perceive it. It is 
said of one who had been imprisoned all his life with no 
light in his dungeon but through one little hole in the 
wall, that, when about to be taken from prison, he thought 
he could never see without the help of that aperture; and 
he found to his astonishment that the wall was but an 
impediment to his vision. What may now appear as 
disagreeable tasks to you, will, in time, become pleasant. 
To find that you are becoming better, wiser, and more 
able to take care of yourselves, will be an ample reward 
for any efforts you may make. You will become more 
robust and healthy by physical exercise, and your minds 
will be invigorated by study. The fact of your being 
here shows that your parents approve of the regulations 
and discipline of the school ; and the fact that you have 
been received here proves that we suppose you are 
willing to conform to them. It is hoped and expected 
that you will here so improve yourselves, that hereafter 
you will be the pride and joy of your friends and an 
honor to the institution in which you will have been 
educated. 



Remarks to Teachers. 131 

To you, my associates and friends, the teachers of this 
institution, I would make a few remarks. If, in a multi- 
tude of counsellors there is safety, there is also danger in 
divided counsels, and that which is the duty of many, may 
be neglected by all. By the influence of Christian prin- 
ciples, we may hope for union among ourselves, and by a 
proper division of labor, each one may know her own 
peculiar sphere of action. Yet the mere discharge of 
duty, without a feeling of interest in the success of what 
is done, would be to fail wholly in the spirit while fulfill- 
ing the letter of the law. 

Some of you have been long associated with me ; first 
as pupils, and then as teachers. The work in which we 
are engaged is important, calling for dignity of character, 
self-command, and self-sacrifices. While so many of our 
sex live for their own enjoyment, or confine their efforts 
to the little domestic circle which bounds their sym- 
pathies, we live for the public ; to us are allotted trials 
and difficulties peculiar to our profession. "We bring 
forward pupils in various sciences and accomplishments ; 
We delight in seeing them go on from one degree of 
improvement to another, but while we are beholding and 
enjoying the work we are permitted to bring to some 
degree of perfection, the objects of our care are taken 
from us ; the blossoms which had expanded under our 
culture are removed to other bowers; — others have enter- 
ed into our labors. It is for this we toil, sure that the 
greatest success must be followed by the greatest trial 



132 IIOUKS WITH MY PcPILS. 

when the time arrives for us to give back to parental 
love those, who, for this very purpose, were intrusted to 
us. To those who have been long associated with me in 
the work of education, I can only ask that you will con- 
tinue the same faithful assistants and devoted friends that 
you have hitherto been. Your greater experience has, 
indeed, rendered your services the more valuable, and I 
can only pray that your life and health may be precious 
in the sight of the Lord, and that our labors of love may 
be still blessed as we have reason to believe they have 
been. But all who have walked with us are not here ; 
some, in a new sphere of life, are occupied with domestic 
cares; others have been called to labor elsewhere, in pro- 
moting the interests of education. Death, too, has claimed 
his victims among our number, for what human circle 
does not the destroyer enter I 

It may be proper here to make some remarks on the 
relations between teacher and pupils. It is desirable 
that teachers should be familiarly acquainted with the 
pupils, that they should mingle with them in their hours 
of recreation, and be to them as friends, elder sisters, or 
mothers. But while the teachers are willing, in their 
social intercourse, to lay aside restraint and ceremony, 
the pupils, bearing in mind the difference in their relative 
positions, should avoid too great famiharity of manners, 
or the doing or saying aught which might require reproof 
or admonition. A respectful manner towards all the officers 
of an institution should ever mark the deportment of a 



Relation between Teachees and Pupils. 133 

pupil ; and if she wishes to be beloved, she should be 
frank and affectionate in her intercourse with them, con- 
sidering that if they appear cold and formal, this may be 
the effect of outward influences, and no indication of 
want of sensibility or warmth of affection. 

1844. 



ADDEESS XIII. 
THE DRAMA OF LIFE. 

TO PUPILS AND TEACHERS. 

The commencement of a new era is a favorable time 
for reflection, and for forming good resolutions as to the 
manner in which we will perform our parts in the drama 
opening before us. The drama of life is an expressive 
term, and its various portions may properly be con- 
sidered as the acts and scenes of which this drama is 
made up. Following this analogy, we may regard our- 
selves and others, as the actors in this drama. There is 
much of pantomime in life ; the going about with looks 
of care or distress, the sullen air, the pouting lip and 
contemptuous manner, deep sorrow, and despair; gaiety, 
imprudence, and levity, all may be seen in the looks and 
manners of mankind. 

God, in his all-wise providence, has brought us together 
for a brief space of time, to perform in this place, acts 
in the drama of our lives. But the analogy between 
theatrical representations and the stage of life, fails in 
one important respect, the former is imitation, the latter 
reality ; the one having no bearing upon futurity, the 

134 



Acting a Pakt in Life. 135 

other a preparation for a future state of happiness or 
misery. Thus, though in a play or drama, we might 
choose our part without reference to actual virtue or vice 
(so the murderer on the stage may be an amiable man, 
free from murderous thoughts) ; in real life, we act 
according to the principles of our nature, whether they 
be good or bad. 

What scene in life can present greater interest than the 
one now before us ? — A large assemblage of young persons 
gathered together from different sections of our country, 
meeting here for education under the care of one late a 
stranger to them, and surrounded by new faces, under 
new relations, subjected to new duties and restraints, and 
expected to make new and great efforts in the accom- 
plishment of the objects for which they have left parents 
and home. In order to fulfill entirely the obligations which 
rest upon you, it would seem necessary that the child 
should be transformed to the woman, and the thoughtless 
girl become reflecting, and anxious to know her duty. 

It has been appointed by Providence that I should have 
much to do with the education of the young. Successive 
groups of fair girls, for many years, have been congre- 
gated to receive instruction here. I was early im- 
pressed with the idea, that though, in many cases, parents 
might value most the literary improvement of their daugh- 
ters, my own greatest obligation consisted in the right 
use of the moral and religious influence which my rela- 
tions to them gave me; and thus it was, that I was often 
led to lay aside books, and talk to my pupils of their 



136 Hours with my Pupils. 

future destinations in life, of the formation of character, 
comprehending not merely literary attainments and ac- 
complishments, but moral principles, and the cultivation 
of the heart with its noblest affections. While the various 
literary branches in which these pupils were instructed 
were important to them in regard to a respectable 
appearance in society, those moral and religious lessons, 
we may believe, have proved useful to them at 
almost every hour of their existence. Were there time 
now to narrate to you their various fortunes, we should 
here present you with one who was cut off in the bloom 
of life, and whose earthly remains have long since mould- 
ered in the dust ; of another, who was early deprived of 
parents and fortune, and thrown upon the cold charities 
of the world ; of another, who was flattered and betrayed, 
and finally sunk to degradation and ruin ; of another, 
too proud to acknowledge her interest in one who had 
flattered her for his own amusement, and whose heart 
became chilled by the setting back of the cold current of 
unrequited affection. — Again, I could show you one, who, 
after many fearful alternations of hopes and fears, during, 
perhaps, years of suspense, having at length gained the 
prize which her trusting heart had deemed so rich and 
precious, is doomed to suffer the caprices and unkindness 
of an unprincipled and tyrannical husband. But these, 
you may say, are extreme cases ; — those women were 
peculiarly unfortunate, and though such examples may 
be met with, they are exceptions to what is to be gene- 
rally expected in life. We will, then, take other cases, 



Woman's Life. 1B7 

the very best as regards worldly happiness and prosperity 
that can be found. I could point you to those whose 
ambition and affection have been gratified, who have 
passed from the care of kind parents to the protection 
of affectionate and devoted husbands ; — but who is not 
called to mourn the loss of near friends, to witness the 
footsteps of death in the domestic circle ? Those who 
have become mothers, even under the most favorable 
circumstances of health, and surrounded by all the atten- 
tions of love and kindness, have been made to taste the 
bitterness of the fearful curse pronounced by the Al- 
mighty on our first mother. And what maternal watch- 
iugs and anxieties follow the gift of a feeble child of 
earth, exposed to innumerable ills, dearer to the mother's 
heart than her own life, and yet holding its frail existence 
upon the most uncertain tenure. 

Such is woman's life ! if she form no new domestic 
ties, she sees, one by one, her early friends become en- 
grossed with their families, while her parents and other 
near relatives, one after another, drop into the grave; she 
at length, feels herself solitary and alone, in a world where 
there are none to care for her ; if she enter into the 
marriage state, she multiplies her chances of unhappiness, 
increases her cares, and becomes compelled to forget her- 
self in her sacrifices for others ; and often, too, without 
a return of gratitude and love from those for whom she 
has made the sacrifice. 

Those of you who have mothers should think of this ; 
the very term mother, is one which involves the idea of 



138 Hours with my Pupils. 

siifTering, anxiety, and love. The Scriptures make the 
love of a mother the highest standard of human affection, 
and they compare, too, the highest degree of suffering to 
the mother's pains. You that are daughters, and may 
yourselves be mothers, be kind and attentive towards 
them who have suffered so much for you. We sometimes 
witness the sad exhibition of a daughter disrespectful and 
disobedient to her mother ; the same daughter may 
restrain her temper in the presence of her father, perhaps 
caress and flatter him, selfishly calculating the value of 
her influence over one on whom she depends for the 
gratification of her wishes. The daughter sees her 
mother under disadvantages, she is a witness to her 
weaknesses of temper, and provocations to fretfulncss or 
passion in the petty trials of every-day life. The father 
at the domestic fireside is a visitor, whose comfort and 
accommodation are to be especially cared for; — not aware 
of the importance of trifles in domestic arrangements, the 
husband may seem amused at annoyances which disturb 
her who feels responsible for the order of the house- 
hold, and which, if she were indifferent to them, might 
soon render his home uncomfortable. Should a good 
daughter join in wondering that " mother makes so much 
of trifles," — or, should she not with tender sympathy, seek 
to remove the thorns which spring up in her pathway ? 

We have entered the sacred precincts of home. We 
have alluded to the duties and trials of domestic life, 
because in the formation of your character, it is impor- 
tant that the serious obligations which rest upon you 



Accomplishments- — Useful Knowledge. 139 

as daughters, and may be incurred as wives, should be 
considered. 

There is danger while cultivating accomplishments that 
the young will imbibe false notions of future life. Thus 
many girls are accustomed to regard proficiency in music, 
French, drawing, etc., as of the greatest consequence; 
and are led to act as if the concerns of the soul and 
eternity were light in comparison to the acquisition of 
elegant accomplishments. But in many cases, too great 
anxiety to become accomplished proves an obstacle to 
proficiency ; if young ladies would cease to regard their 
playing and singing as of infinite importance, they would 
not feel such a trembling anxiety lest they may not 
answer expectations, but do the best they can without the 
agitation and fear which defeat their own hopes and the 
wishes of their friends. 

The cultivation of taste and refinement belongs to a 
state of civilization. The fine arts afford ^oleasure, and 
tend to elevate the mind ; they add to the innocent 
enjoyment of life, but should not be made to take the 
place of necessary virtues and useful occupations. Edu- 
cation should be conducted with reference to the good of 
the subjects of it both in this life and that which is to 
come. 

My associate teachers, these young persons committed 
to our care have a brief space allowed them, in the which 
to prepare for future life in this world, and their destiny 
for eternity will also be greatly affected by the impres- 
sions received and the habits hero formed. 



140 Iloufis WITH MY Pupils. 

A home scliool for the young- should be, as far as pos- 
sible, the abode of piety without severity or superstition; 
of elevated morality, and of all that is " lovely and of 
<^ood report." All its officers and teachers should be 
examples of sincerity, faithfulness, and gentleness ; while 
their duty obliges them to enforce discipline, they should 
show themselves long suffering and forbearing. Upon 
the characters and conduct of the teachers, in a large 
institution, must its prosperity and usefulness in a degree 
depend. The Principal, who cannot be ubiquitous, is 
represented by the officers, and teachers employed, and 
must rely on their faithfulness and ability ; the relations 
between them are of a sacred character, and as they 
should never be lightly entered into, they should not, for 
slight causes, be dissolved. 

The relations of the different teachers towards each 
other demand serious consideration. Engaged in the 
same calling, separated alike from home and kindred, 
they should be friends to each other, regarding it as a 
duty to cultivate each other's acquaintance, and as much 
as possible to seek each other's society. It is not well 
for a teacher to separate herself too much from the 
family of the Principal, and when not engaged in school 
duties, to live chiefly in imagination with absent friends, 
neglecting efforts to promote the happiness of those 
around her ; in short, to render herself a cipher in the 
social circle to which she should seek to give light and 
warmth. Teachers should sympathize with each other, and 
be ready to give mutual assistance or advice when needed 



A Word to Teachers. 141 

Watching over the interest of the school with anxious 
care, a teacher should not hesitate to caution or admon- 
ish another teacher, who might, through inadvertence, or 
a want of reflection, do that which would be injurious in 
its effects on the prosperity or reputation of the In- 
stitution. As in a well-ordered, conscientious family, 
each member is studious of the general good, so in a 
school-family should those who are employed as its 
guardians, regard with deep interest the welfare of the 
same. We have mentioned duties and obligations, let 
us acknowledge that mere morality is of itself insufficient 
to keep us free from error in conduct and thought, but 
that the source of all good is to be found in religion. 
We may be deceived in ourselves, we may be deceived 
in, and deceive each other, but if we study the word of 
God, and look to that as the pole-star to direct our way 
through the devious mazes of life, we shall not go far 
astray, or wandering, we shall soon return to the " strait 
and narrow way which leadeth unto life eternal." 

The Apostle Paul, being about to visit the church at 
Corinth, said : *' I fear lest, when I come, I shall not find 
you such as I would ; lest there be debates, envyings, 
wrath, strifes, back-bitings, whisperings, swellings, tu- 
mults," and he closes his epistle with this touching and 
solemn benediction : " Finally, brethren, farewell ; be 
perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace, 
and the God of love and peace shall be with you." 

How expressive the words of that farewell, and let us 
all, the " teachers and the taught," appropriate to our- 



142 Hours with my Pupils. 

selves the precious advice. " Be perfect, be of good com- 
fort, be of one mind, live in peace," and then shall the 
God of love and peace be with us both now and for- 
2ver. 

1844. 



ADDRESS XIY. 
ON THE CLOSE OF A SCHOOL-SESSION IN AUTUMN* 

TO PUPILS AND TEACHERS. 

When we assembled at the opening of the session the 
spring was giving its promise ; we had before us its 
beautiful flowers, and were looking forward to the ripened 
fruits of summer. Then, to us, the end of the term, was 
in the far-off distance ; we thought perhaps there was 
much time for many things. But that distant period 
has come, the opportunity for improvement has gone by, 
whether improved or not ; it waited not for us. We look 
now abroad upon nature, and behold a change has come 
over the landscape. The bright green of spring has 
passed away, its verdant foliage and bright flowers have 
disappeared. The changes have been gradual ; from the 
beauty and cheerfulness of spring we passed into the 
fervid and glowing summer ; though often oppressed by 
its heat and lassitude, we were comforted by rich and 
cooling fruits, fresh water, the ice of the preceding winter, 

* Soon after this period, the two sessions in a year were merged 
into one whicli closed in summer — the new school-year com- 
mencing in September after an interval of some weeks. 

143 



144: HOUES WITH MY PuPIL13. 

laid up for that season, and the refreshing breezes from 
the surrounding hills which played among our groves. 
How beautiful is the succession of the seasons, and how 
do they, as they proceed onward in their ever-varying, 
ever-uniform march, testify to the wisdom and goodness 
of the Creator I 

Summer has given place to autumn, the sober season 
for meditation and self-examination. At this period 
nature without, and the peculiar circumstances of our 
relations in view of a coming change, call us to reflection. 

At the opening of the session, you looked forward to 
its close, as to an eminence you were to ascend ; you 
have now nearly reached it, and can look back upon the 
road through which you have passed ; you knew not 
who would be the companions of your way, whom you 
should love best, who would do most towards rendering 
your journey pleasant ; what opportunities you might 
have for doing good to others, or of benefiting your- 
selves ; your future trials, your temptations, and your 
pleasures were then unknown to you. Quiet and retired 
as may be your lives here, and devoid of thrilling and 
romantic incidents, such as would give interest to the 
pages of a novel ; still you have opportunities to learn 
lessons of human nature, which will never be forgot- 
ten. A school is a little world, a miniature picture 
of life. The passions which agitate the breasts of men 
and women in the great world, are here seen, and with 
far less disguise than in the active scenes of life in the 
world without ; vanity shows off her airs to attract atteu- 



• Sudden Intimacies. 145 

tion, pride assumes her cold indifference, and haughtiness 
her contempt ; ambition incites to efforts for the sake of 
gaining superiority over others ; flattery uses her bland- 
ishments, and deception, even among the young, shows 
the depraved nature of a fallen race. 

Falsehood and insincerity are witnessed even among 
children, and in short, few of the passions, prejudices, 
follies, and vices of mankind, may not be seen, in a ger- 
minating or mature state, among the members of a school. 

For this reason it is, that the careful educator must be 
ever busy, ever watchful to eradicate the weeds which 
spring up in his garden of young plants ; — our weekly 
journals of the board of officers and teachers show so 
manv records of lesser faults and errors, because we think 
it wise to crush the evils in the bud, to eradicate the 
small weeds before they shall become firmly rooted. 

On entering this place to become the inmate of a new 
home, as you looked around, you saw pleasant and open 
countenances, which seemed as an index of all that is 
amiable and lovely in character ; you said to yourselves 
of some particular one, "Surely I can love and trust 
her ;" you became intimate, told all your little se- 
crets, and heard in return those of your friend ; but soon 
some cause of envy or jealousy separated you, and cold 
indifference, or open enmity took the place of the warm 
friendship at first professed. 

You saw, perhaps, on your arrival among so many 
strangers, one who impressed you with no sudden admi- 
ration, whose countenance might have appeared unintei'- 



146 Hours with my Pupils. 

esting — you felt, at first, no sympathy kindling your affec- 
tions into a glow ; day after day, you met the same face 
without, perhaps, any change of feeling ; but by and by, 
an occasion was offered for you to do some little kindness, 
to show some civility to the uninteresting stranger ; you 
marked the beaming of her countenance, and her look of 
grateful acknowledgment for the trifling favor, and then 
you wished, perchance, it had been greater, and resolved 
that hereafter you would pay more attention to one who 
seemed to have a sensitive and grateful heart. By de- 
grees you became acquainted, and a firm and enduring 
friendship sprung up between you, which you now hope 
may continue through future years. Such is human life, 
often disappointing us when we had hoped most, and 
offering flowers and fruits from an apparently barren soil. 
Such is the history of many of the most important events 
of our lives ; from the most unpromising beginnings pro- 
ceed the most interesting results ; while from the most 
specious hopes and promises we often reap only disap- 
pointment or disgust. 

The views which young persons gain of human life from 
morbid poetry and tales of fiction are illusory, and lead 
to an entire misconception of the duties and realities of 
life. They usually give to the morally good, personal 
attractions, and represent the bad, as repulsive in look 
and manner ; but this, in reality, is far from being the 
case. The very effect of personal beauty is to render its 
possessor vain, imperious and selfish ; and nothing but 
good training, and the special care of God's Providence 



Effects of Personal Beauty. 147 

can preserye from these faults, a young person in a high 
degree gifted with external attractions; while the con- 
sciousness of a plain and unattractive person, often begets 
humility and meekness, resulting in excellence of charac- 
ter, and loveliness of soul. 

But after all, what is beauty ? It is regarded as the 
outward and visible sign of inward graces and virtues. 
Regular features, a clear complexion, sparkling eyes, and 
rosy cheeks and lips may be pretty to look upon, but 
unless the countenance be lighted up by an agreeable or 
intelligent expression, it can never excite permanent and 
deep emotions, but like a waxen beauty, or a scentless 
flow^er, it will be regarded with indifference. 

But according to our test of beauty, as being the out- 
ward and visible sign of inward loveliness, we admit that 
there are those who possess those outward signs, whose 
expression of countenance and graceful motion inspire 
the expectation that the gem within such a casket must 
be rich and precious ; yet we may be deceived — and 
how great is the disappointment, to find where we ex- 
pected moral worth and internal beauty answering to the 
external, that all is hollow and void, or deformity and 
usrliness. And how does the most beautiful countenance 
cease to please, nay, excite disgust and loathing, when 
associated with unamiable and hateful qualities of soul ! 
If the inward beauty be possessed, it will make itself 
known and loved ; but no outward appearances can long 
deceive, where the reality is wanting. The sign fails ; 
the casket attracted, but was found worthless, euvshrining 



14:3 HOUKS WITH MY PcPILS. 

nothing precious within. Where we looked to find a rich 
gem, is but paste set in tinsel. 

All, doubtless, wish to be beloved, but all do not use 
the proper means to gain, and secure affection ; you here 
see many young girls like yourselves ; your own charac- 
ters, your faults and follies are reflected in those around 
you. In studying others, you learn to know yourselves ; 
happy, if by means of such knowledge, you learn to 
govern yourselves. The session is now approaching its 
termination ; a few short days, and it will be numbered 
with past time, with " the days beyond the flood," it will 
be no more in your possession than time which was never 
yours — yet once, it was yours ; each day, with its hours 
and minutes, was yours to spend as you liked, to be made 
a friend to carry into eternity a good report, or an 
enemy to bring accusations against you in the day of 
judgment. How little, perhaps, have many of you re- 
flected, as time fled, that it would bear with it, reports for, 
or against you — at the bar of God. Although no regret 
for time misimproved can bring it back, yet such regret 
may render you hereafter more careful to seize the fleet- 
ing moments, and enstamp upon them a mark of inesti- 
mable value. We know not how long we may have 
moments to spend. Every closing day and week is an 
emblem to remind us of the end of life ; and how much 
more so, the termination of a school session constituting 
so large a portion of that period of youth devoted to 
education I Have its advantages been neglected — has 
a feeling of repining for home prevented attention to 



Those who make Home Happy. 149 

the interests and objects for which you left that 
home ? 

Who will be most likely to carry happiness, and a fund 
of cheerfulness and satisfaction into the domestic circle of 
home — those who, when at school, were ever complain- 
ing and discontented, so that they could lay up no stores 
of knowledge, could improve in no accomplishment, to 
please and enliven home, when they should return to it ; 
or those who resolutely dismissed from their minds 
thoughts which would impede their progress, and dili- 
gently improved the advantages for which they left 
parents and home. This question carries with it a re- 
sponse which must be felt deeply by those who are con- 
scious of time misspent, and instructions slighted. Those 
who have faithfully studied, who have made each hour 
perform its own work, have done all they could, and are 
ready to show forth the fruits of their industry and appli- 
cation at the approaching examination. Thus may it 
be with us all, at the end of life — may we be found pre- 
pared for the great examination before the " Searcher of 
all hearts," and the '' Judge of all men." 

May the teachers and oflScers here collected for the 
instruction and care of the young, ever bear in mind 
their great accountability as the assistants and repre- 
sentatives of the Principal. Great conscientiousness is 
required in the faithful performance of your duties. Con- 
stituting as we do one large family, there should be 
harmony and unity of purpose among us. Such an 
establishment as this differs greatly in organization from 



150 HOUKS WITH MY PdPILS. 

a college, where the different officers are appointed by 
trustees, and accountable to them ; where the President 
is but a nominal head, with but his own share of account- 
ability in respect to students. Here the Principal bears 
the whole weight of pecuniary responsibility, and is as a 
parent in a large family. Suppose a teacher, regarding 
only her own interests or feelings, works solely for her 
own purposes. If she differ in opinion from the Prin- 
cipal, that she secretly sets in motion projects to bring 
about what she thinks is best, even against what she 
knows would be disapproved of by her employer — 
that she introduces disunion and distrust into a com- 
munity which should be the abode of peace and con- 
fidence. — Suppose she should do this under the specious 
pretence that some good was to be attained by that 
secret combination, that her difference in opinion from 
the Principal made such a mode of proceeding proper 
and right ; the sophistry of such reasoning is obvious. 
We are not to "do evil that good may come." Far 
better vfould it be to withdraw from a connection which 
involves trust and obedience the teacher is not willing to 
give. The association is voluntary on both sides, and 
should exist no longer than there is mutual good will 
and confidence. 

We have supposed what we trust may not take place 
among us. The confidence reposed in you, my associ- 
ates and friends, is truly great ; I am accountable for 
your acts, for your influence on the character of our 
pupils. It is because you are considered worthy of 



Example and Influence of Teachers. 151 

esteem and confidence that you are called to aid in 
carrying forward plans for the proper training of the 
young. To your keeping is committed in a degree my 
own happiness and reputation ; any great mistakes on 
your part would disturb my peace of mind, and injure 
the reputation of the institution whose interests you are 
bound to promote. It is only as mutual friends that we 
can go forward in our work. A¥hat pure and elevated 
happiness might be enjoyed in a community like ours, 
where the pupils were all amiable and gentle, only 
desiring that the path to learning might be pointed out 
to them, that they might eagerly walk therein ; where 
those who teach were all affectionate towards each other, 
devoted to their office, and united in efforts to sustain their 
Principal in her duties, sympathizing in her cares, and 
scrupulously guarding her reputation from the attacks of 
malevolence, who regarding this as their home, look to the 
honor and prosperity of the Institute, in minute, as well as 
important matters, by w^hom education is considered as 
a noble profession fitted to bring forth the very best 
faculties of the soul, while exerting them for the good of 
others I 

Such should be the relations subsisting between those 
engaged in training the young to habits of virtue, and to 
a faithful fullfilment of their duties ; such should be the 
teacher's estimate of her own high calling. 

The example and influence of teachers are of great 
importance ; dress, manners, conversation, government of 
temper, and religious habits, all are to be considered by 



152 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

teachers witli reference to their office, and the influence 
thej may have over others — ever bearing in mind that 
the results of their labor are not for this life only, but 
are destined to modify and influence the condition of 
souls in a future existence. 

Dignified, prudent, and discreet should be the conduct 
of those who instruct others — noble and elevating should 
be their sentiments and aspirations ; and if they be 
found faithful in the duties of their calling, their reward 
will, in this life, be a happy consciousness of great good 
perforpied, and cheering hopes of *' rest" hereafter. 

Close of school year for 1844. 



ADDRESS XY. 

TEMPLES DEDICATED TO IMPROVEMENT ALLEGORICAL. 

Various are the characters and the conditions in life 
of those now before me, and known to each the peculiar 
circumstances which may affect that character and con- 
dition, in a manner perhaps unperceived by the world, 
and seen only by the Omniscient eye of God. He alone 
knoweth what is to be your lot in a world of trial 
and suffering where all must undergo the ills of life, fall- 
ing upon the queen in her palace, not. less heavily than 
upon the peasant in her cottage. Wealth may alleviate 
suffering, but it cannot prevent sickness and death, and 
too often it causes mental anxieties and promotes strifes 
and jealousies from which poverty is free. 

Collectively, you constitute the Patapsco Institute ; 
though in order to complete the organization of the 
body, a head is wanted, and this, the officers of the insti- 
tution constitute in their combined capacity, while others in 
a more humble sphere are as hands and feet to the whole. 
But there is not only the institution considered as unity, 
its various members all combining to complete this unity, 
but each of those members are units, each has her own 

^J^ 153 



154: Hours with my Pupils- 

world of tbouglit, her own separate emotions, and her 
own sphere of action. In addressing all, it is difficult to 
adapt my remarks to individual cases ; — the timid need 
encouragement, while the presuming, or those too confi- 
dent of success to make the necessary efforts require to 
be reminded that talents without labor will bring no 
fruit to perfection. Some are too eager in the pursuit 
of knowledge, and require a warning voice to repress 
their ardor, lest they sacrifice health and ultimately des- 
troy their mental vigor by disregarding the laws of their 
physical constitution. 

But the number of those who injure themselves by 
hard study is comparatively small ; more, through in- 
dolence, neglect to take the proper bodily exercise, exist- 
ing in a dreamy state of reverie, rather than making that 
exertion which is necessary to a healthy state of mind or 
body. Some acquire a morbid desire for such stimulus 
as is afforded by trifling works of fiction, where the im- 
agination is gratified by romantic incidents and scenes, 
without any good effect upon the heart, or acquisi- 
tion of any useful knowledge. Even the books which 
compose our Sunday Libraries are, but too often, highly 
wrought fictions, which, though intended by the authors 
to convey important religious truths, are read by many 
merely for the sake of the story, while the sentiments 
conveyed take no hold upon the mind ; — thus, there are 
some plants which convert to poison the elements that 
combine with them ; such is their habit — while plants 
of a different constitution, imbibing the same elements, 



Educational Impkovement. 165 

are healthfal, and perform their useful offices in the econ- 
omy of nature. 

Since your tendencies, your habits of mind, your faults 
and your virtues are so varied, how shall I address you, 
so that all may be benefited by my remarks ? Let us 
seek for some general principle of action which exists 
in every individual ; we will look into the science of the 
human mind, and hope we may there find some light to 
guide us in this search. 

You are all here for the purposes of education. Is it 
not so ? Or, have some of you come here because you 
fancied your acquaintances would esteem you more high- 
ly if you should spend some time at a Boarding-school, 
and, perhaps, obtain a Diploma ? Or, because your pa- 
rents said you must go to school, and you were sent away, 
as if to endure penance for a time, banished from all 
you love, and that can render you happy ? 

I will suppose that you all came with the desire of im.- 
frovement — education means improvement, and improve- 
ment, in one sense, means education. I would address 
you then as rational beings, assembled in this place for 
the purpose of improveme7it, stimulated, as I would fain 
believe, by the wish to render yourselves acceptable as a 
living sacrifice to your Maker, and to fulfill the duties in- 
cumbent upon you, as rational and intelligent beings. 
We now stand upon high ground ; — we have carried you 
in imagination to an elevated region of pure and lofty 
purpose. Would that you all really stood upon this 
ground, and that you could with full purpose of mind, 



156 HOUES WITH MT PuPILS. 

and with the concentration of all your faculties, devote 
yourselves to duty, at whatever sacrifice of taste or inclin- 
ation ; — then would your imjprovement in all that is good 
and praiseworthy be certain and constant ; then would 
you go on from one degree of perfection to another. 

The first step in improvement is to root out the evil 
which exists where we wish good may be. If an archi- 
tect desire to erect a useful or beautiful edifice, he clears 
away all rubbish, and makes a clean place to begin upon. 
If a gardener would plant a good tree in place of a bar- 
ren one, he digs out the old roots and makes the ground 
ready for the reception of the good tree ; so must you 
try to clear away the rubbish of evil inclinations and cor- 
rupt tastes, to eradicate bad habits and low tendencies ; 
you must do this work faithfully, and keep a constant 
watch against the shooting forth of bad roots which may 
lie concealed within your hearts. Then you can go on 
with your work of improvement. 

We will consider what kind of improvement is meant, 
when we speak of educational improvement ? This leads 
us into a vast region; let us enter and examine what is 
here presented to our view. We will suppose many tem- 
ples occupy this space, each dedicated to some particular 
kind of improvement ; — let us pass on. We enter an edi- 
fice and read the inscription; — "Dedicated to religious im- 
provement.''^ The revealed word of God is engraven on 
the walls of this temple, illuminated by rays of divine 
light beaming directly from the great source of light. 
Here we learn our duty to God and man. We learn 



Temples dedicated to Impeoyement. 157 

that the young are commanded to " Eemember their 
Creator in the days of their youth" — ^that their Maker 
demands their heart, with its best affections and desires. 
The various means of grace or religious improvement 
are set forth on the walls of this temple ; and the insti- 
tutions of the Christian religion are here offered for our 
contemplation and participation. 

We will leave this temple in which we behold many de- 
vout worshippers — but, only for a while, we leave it ; hith- 
er will our footsteps often turn ; hither will we repair when 
wearied with earthly cares, or suffering under trials and 
afflictions, we need direction or consolation. Here is de- 
posited the armor which amidst future conflicts and 
trials, we shall often require. Fortified by the hopes 
and encouragements we find in the temple dedicated to 
religion, we may proceed on our way. 

Another edifice meets our view — we enter, and scenes 
of domestic life appear ; the home fireside, where aged 
grandparents in their arm-chairs watch with satisfaction 
the happiness of those to whom life is yet fresh and full 
of promise ; or the child listens with deferential atten- 
tion to the words of parental instruction. We enter and 
behold a group of young persons surrounding one who 
speaks to them of their moral duties, the right cultiva- 
tion of the heart and its affections ? and we behold the 
inscription over the doorway of the temple ; — " Dedica- 
ted to moral improvement, and the study of duties to others 
and to ourselvesj' Here we find books of advice as to the 
*' Proper improvement of time," " The regulation of the 



158 Hours with my PuriLS. 

temper/' "The education of the heart." The genius 
of this temple is a person of benign, but grave as- 
pect. If a group are seen in angry contention, the 
genius appears, and holds before them a card on 
which is engraven the words, " Be kindly affectionate one 
to another ;" at the sight of this the flush of anger is seen 
to subside, and sweet smiles to irradiate countenances 
but a moment before distorted with rage. A poor wo- 
man holding in her arms a sickly looking infant ap- 
proaches a lady clad in elegant attire and asks charity ; 
in disgust she is turning away, when the genius 
holds before her a tablet containing these words, *' He 
that piiieth the jpoor lendeth to the Lord,^^ the lady gives 
liberally to the poor woman, and kindly looks upon the 
little heir of poverty she holds to her bosom. Two 
young girls are seen in low and earnest conversation ; — 
shrugs and winks and other significant signs pass be- 
tween them ; the genius frowns and holds before their 
eyes a tablet on which with confusion of face they read 
the words, " Slander and bacJcliting.^^ — But we could 
never recount all the scenes in the temple exhibiting hu- 
man life, and dedicated to the improvement of the heart 
and its affections. 

We approach an edifice situated on an eminence ; and 
here we find many engaged in deep study. One group 
are contemplating from an observatory the starry canopy 
of the heavens, measuring the distances of the stars by 
means of curious instruments, or explaining the motions 
of the heavenly bodies. The laboratory of the chemist 



Templp^ for the Study of I^ature. 159 

attracts many — air, earth and water, once considered 
simple, are brought here for analysis; and elements be- 
fore unknown and unthought of, are detected in these com- 
mon substances. Flowers bloom here, and many love 
to watch their growth, and contemplate the curious sym- 
metry of their formation. Even the smallest and most 
humble of the vegetable tribe seem to delight these culti- 
vators of botanical science. While natural history thus 
employs its votaries, with its specimens of animals, plants 
and minerals, and all created material things receive 
their due attention, other groups are studying the facul- 
ties of mind and investigating the laws of the human 
understanding. But even to name all the subjects pre- 
sented, would require almost a lifetime. 

We see that with finite, or limited faculties, the scope 
for investigation is infinite. The greater part of knowledge 
must be reserved for that future state of existence when 
time, so short and inadequate for all we have to do, 
shall be no more, and eternity, in its ceaseless round of 
progression, opens before us its illimitable expanse. Here, 
we can but lift up one little corner of the vast curtain 
whicli conceals from our view the wonders of creation, 
the mysteries of science, but in the future world we 
shall "know as we are known." To those who have no 
interest in knowledge and no desire for improvement, the 
eternity which awaits them cannot we believe be blessed ; 
while to sucli as have, shall more be given, those who 
have little, and do not desire more, shall be forever ex- 
cluded from all sources of knowledge and improvement. 



160 Hours with my Pupils. 

In reference to those grand temples dedicated to rdig- 
iouSj social, and intellectual improvement, we should say, that 
as age advances and the strength fails, the first temple 
becomes the fayorite resort. Here the weary repose ; 
here faith sustains the drooping heart, bruised and crushed 
by affliction, and deprived of the hopes and blessings 
which make life desirable. The inscriptions on the walls 
seem to stand out bolder, and the light from above beams 
more brightly upon the humble worshippers. Here the 
wayworn traveller rejoices as he reads, " To him that 
overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life." 

To these temples, you, my beloved pupils, have access 
— you are constantly incited to your duties, to industry 
and perseverance, by every bell which reminds you that 
one portion of time has ended, and another has begun. 
Can it be possible that amidst all these incentives to effort, 
and encouragements to virtuous conduct ; all the dis- 
couragements and mortifications which attend the neglect 
of the means of improvement, any can recklessly go on, 
throwing away time in trifling pursuits, and disregarding 
duties ? 

But we trust that among us are none who are not, in 
some degree, desirous to resort to all the temples which 
may be accessible to them, where truth is to be learned, 
and wisdom imparted. ^ 

, 1845. 



ADDRESS XYI. 

PERFECT HAPPINESS NOT TO BE FOUND ON EARTH. 

Life is not " a succession of pleasant holidays," but to 
all, and each one, it presents scenes of trials and tempta- 
tions, and to many, of sorrow and suffering. No situation 
offers greater temptations than one of prosperity ; and 
earthly prosperity cannot be permanent. Children gather 
around the family board, and the family hearth, protected 
and cherished by kind and indulgent parents ; day after 
day, and year after year, passes, and this circle remains 
unbroken ; but it will not always be so. One mem- 
ber after another may be called away to engage in 
necessary business ; the young must soon see that as 
their parents advance in life, they cannot depend on 
their care and exertions. In our country there are few 
fortunes so ample as to secure competency without 
labor or industry of some kind. If a son receive from his 
father a fortune suflScient for all his wants, how will it be 
when this patrimony is divided among several children ? 

The genius of our government is opposed to family dis- 
tinctions ; and thus the entailment of estates, as in Europe, 
is not allowed by our laws. In monarchical governments 
where the crown is hereditary, fortunes and honors are 

161 



162 Houiis WITH MY Pupils. 

held by the same tenure. The eldest son of a noble family 
inherits the estate and family honors, younger branches 
are provided for by the government with places in the 
public service where they are supported. 

Thus is aristocracy sustained and perpetuated; but in 
our country, there cannot be, under our existing laws, any 
other aristocracy than that derived from talent and 
industry. 

The family circle may be suddenly broken up by the 
death of parents; the father taken away, and all is changed 
in the once happy home. The talents which sustained, or 
the industry in business which supported the family have 
passed away ; and those who never thought from whence 
the supply of their wants came, are compelled to think, 
and to act for themselves; and not only so, but they are 
bound to take care gf those who are yet helpless and 
incapable of judging, or of doing anything for themselves. 

But though the outward circumstances be fair and pros- 
perous, what domestic circle can be a happy one where 
its members are not governed by right principles, and in 
their intercourse with each other do not manifest amiable 
and conciliatory dispositions ? It is not always that the 
virtuous and honest are kind and tender in manner 
towards their nearest relatives — this is a sad view of 
human life, and convinces us more than anything else that 
we are not to be perfectly happy in this world. Too 
often those who are conscious of rectitude in the weightier 
matters of the law, omit within the sanctuary of the 
domestic circle, what they regard as lesser duties, offering 



The Daughter at Home. 163 

sparingly the incense of affectionate looks and words 
upon the home altar, and recklessly wounding the feelingF; 
of those nearest and dearest to them. How little do we 
know of the sorrows and cares which oppress many who 
seem placed in enviable circumstances ! We heard not 
the unkind word, the taunting sarcasm, we saw not the 
cold or scornful glance, which have inflicted deep wounds 
in that heart, supposed by us to be happy in the midst of 
prosperity. How many trivial circumstances in the daily 
intercourse of life, call for forbearance and forgiveness ! 

A daughter returns from school to take her place in 
the family circle. If her chief thought is for her own 
enjoyment, if her imagination continually roves abroad 
in search of something to interest, excite, or amuse, what 
happiness does she bring with her ? If her parents have 
sought to give her accomplishments, have they not a 
right to expect that for them and their happiness those 
accomplishments are chiefly to be valued, and to be 
brought forward at their pleasure, and for their gratifica- 
tion ? But do we not often see the wishes, and even 
urgent requests of parents disregarded, while the pres- 
ence of a stranger will elicit dulcet sounds of music, flashes 
of wit, or interesting conversation ? Is this the fruit of 
good principles, is this obeying the command of God, to 
" honor parents ?" Good principles alone can secure the 
young from the temptations of a deceitful and cor- 
rupting world ; they alone can sustain the heart suffering 
under sorrows and trials. It should be considered as the 
first and most important object of your youth, to arm and 



164: HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

fortify your minds with such principles as will save you 
from error, and lead you in the way of truth and virtue. 
The period of great temptations, of great trials, and suf- 
ferings may be more distant in respect to some of you 
than to others ; but come they will to all, unless some 
stroke of Divine Providence remove you suddenly from 
this mortal scene. This alone could save you from the 
dark hours of life ; are you prepared for the change ? 
Is your soul, as it now is, fitted to appear before God in 
judgment ? If so, you are prepared to live, to encounter 
the dangers and difficulties of life ; for a preparation for 
death is a preparation for life — and whoever is prepared 
to live, is also ready to die. 

Before any of you leave this place, whither you have 
come to prepare yourselves for future life, may you seek 
and find that wisdom from above which will prove the best 
and only security for your virtuous and worthy conduct in 
the scenes which lie before you ; which will also be an 
earnest of your acceptance with God, of your prepara- 
tion to appear before him in judgment. Think of these 
things 1 and inasmuch as the time before you is short, 
the change to be efi'ected great, and the objects to be 
gained of infinite importance, may you apply yourselves 
with all care and diligence to learn those things that be- 
long to your everlasting peace. 

1845. 



ADDRESS XVII. 

A GOOD BEGINNING. 

The past is inexorable, holding with a firm grasp all 
that is committed to it ; no regrets, no wishes, can wrest 
from its grasp aught which it has once held. The future 
is at our disposal, should God grant us longer life ; but in 
order to be faithful to our own best interests, we must 
think beforehand, as to the best method of filling up the 
time which may be given us, so that it may go down to 
the past richly laden with good reports. How many live 
with no plans for the future, acting only from impulse, 
and as inclination prompts. 

The young are naturally averse to restraint ; they are 
not inclined to give up present indulgences for future 
good. But this must be done by all who would live a 
virtuous life, who would form such habits as will fit the 
soul for heaven. Whoever will allow himself to follow 
his inclinations without considering consequences, acts 
contrary to his reason and conscience, and must reap the 
bitter fruit of his own planting. We see the intemper- 
ate, not in strong drink merely, but in the various indul- 
gences of the appetite which injure the health ; we see 
a woman fond of admiration, intoxicated with flattery, 

165 



166 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

and giddy with excitement — she cannot deny herself even 
the doubtful pleasures of society, where she can command 
attentions for which others sigh in vain. She finds that 
a certain giddiness, and defiance of restraints and pro- 
prieties, attract around her those of the other sex, who 
seeking pleasure in excitement, avoid the more thoughtful 
and serious woman, as tiresome and uncongenial. Many 
a girl who begins by being merely a trifler, goes on her 
thoughtless course, until she finds herself fa«t sliding 
down the smooth declivity, at whose base yawns a fright- 
ful gulf. The guilty and abandoned woman might once 
have been lovely and innocent — her decline was 
gradual ; from the bowers of pleasure, she passed im- 
perceptibly to the dark purlieus of infamy. 

The school-girl is contiuually solicited by duty on the 
one hand, and inclination on the other — to rise early, to 
set about doing what is required of her, to break off from 
her amusements or her indolence at the call of duty, are all, 
at first, hard to her. She prefers, perhaps, to follow her 
ovm desires, and receives reproof and loses standing. 
But what a reward follows the doing that which is right, 
what happiness attends the discharge of duty ! In the 
one case when we follow pleasure at the sacrifice of duty, 
we become dissatisfied with ourselves and unhappy ; in 
the other we have turned away from pleasure, preferring 
to do what was disagreeable because it was right, and 
behold the bitter becomes sweet, and the rough places 
smooth, we find what we had not expected, happiness in 
the train of duty I 



Lining by a Ylan. 167 

Have each of you formed your plan for the future, or 
do you intend to leave all to chance, and your own foolish 
desires ? As to those few pupils among us who have 
scarcely yet passed the years of childhood, we do not 
expect from them the power of self-control and maturity 
of judgment, which will enable them to direct themselves, 
and we therefore place them under the more immediate 
care and direction of older persons. But I address those 
who are responsible for their conduct, as capable of judg- 
ing between right and wrong; who are no longer children, 
but rapidly advancing to that state of maturity when the 
full development of the character, as it will be seen in 
future life, is to appear. The form and tint of the flower, 
are visible in the expanded blossom ; time may imprint 
deeper and richer hues, and give more symmetry to the 
outlines, but essentially the flower will remain the same — 
until decay comes which takes away its beauty, and 
leaves but the fragrance. 

To live by a plan, to make a good beginning, this is 
what we will now speak of. A good day should be pre- 
ceded by a good night. That is, when you retire to rest, 
it should be with the intention of beginning betimes in 
the morning, to perform its duties, and of spending its 
hours in the work of improvement ; that work for w^hich 
you were sent to this place. You have, as a Christian, 
been accustomed to read God's Holy Word before com- 
posing yourself to sleep, and to commend your soul to 
Him, beseeching His blessing upon your good resolutions. 
After that, you should avoid, as far as possible, all that 



168 Hours with my Pupils. 

would disturb your thoughts. You have prepared your- 
self for sleep, which is the emblem of death, and you 
should not let your soul again go forth into the world. 
How calm and sweet is sleep to the young who are pure 
in heart, and love God, their Father in Heaven I As His 
all-seeing-eye looks down upon the earth, may we not sup- 
pose that our home is regarded by Him with peculiar com- 
placency. Here in the dark watches of the night, He 
beholds many fair young heads reposing in the sleep of 
health and innocence; they have the look of angels, yet 
God who seeth, pitieth their infirmities, and would^ help 
them to become perfect. 

You are resolved to make a good begiuniog — therefore 
when you hear the summons for rising in the morniog, do 
not wait to parley with your conscience, but spring from 
your beds with the alacrity of a youthful pilgrim, who 
sees a journey before him which requires all his activity. 
It is unnecessary to remind the Christian young-pilgrim, 
that God's eye is upon him, and that a good beginning of 
the day requires a lifting up of his heart to the source of 
all. virtue and strength ; thus, though he may meet with 
difficulties and trials, he may overcome and endure them, 
so as not to do wrong himself, or disturb the happiness 
and tranquillity of others. 

Those helpless young persons are greatly to be pitied, 
in whom habits of indolence are confirmed, and who are 
accustomed to depend on the services of others for the 
supply of their wants. Children thus brought up become 
unable to exert themselves, their bodily powers do not 



A Bad Plan op Living. 169 

strengthen as they should, and their minds are, In propor- 
tion, weak and feeble; yet their tempers often become vio- 
lent and imperious, and their manners are usually 
unamiable and repulsive. 

How is it with you, my dear younger girls, do you wish 
to be strong and healthy, industrious, amiable and intelli- 
gent ? In order to become all this, you must form your 
plan of living, and try to conform your actions to it. 
Suppose you should make resolutions like these : ''I will 
go to bed without saying my prayers, or only in a hur- 
ried manner, then I will talk and make as much noise to 
disturb others as I please. In the morning I will not 
get up till a few minutes before breakfast, when I will 
hurry on my clothes without properly washing myself, or 
combing and arranging my hair nicely. I will go down 
stairs to the dining-room in a noisy manner, running 
through the halls and pushing rudely by others, especially 
those to whom I ought, particularly, to be respectful. At 
table, I will eat fast, sit awkwardly, help myself to what 
I want, before others have had an opportunity, call on 
the servants to attend to me when they are helping 
others, and create as much noise about me as I can, with- 
out being so rude as to be sent out of the room. Then 
in my plays with my companions, I will make all the quar- 
rels I can— if a word is said that will make mischief 
between others, I will be sure and report it, and advise 
those who are friendly to have no more to say to each 
Other. I will induce my corapanions to break rules and 
be disobedient ; we will agree together to do things which 



170 HOUES WITH MY PUPILS. 

we know to be wrong ; we will linger away from our 
duties, go secretly into forbidden places, skulk about as 
those do who are conscious of doing wrong, and when 
detected we will pretend to be surprised that we should 
be blamed, we will say we did not know the rules, we did 
not hear the bell, or give some other reason, no matter 
whether true or false, so that we escape punishment." 
No girl would avow such intentions, but should we see 
one living day after day in the practice of such con- 
duct, must we not think she has either formed her plan to 
do these things, or that she is living without a plan ? It 
would be well for you all, younger or older, to write 
down your plan of life, so that you might have it ever 
before you. I am sure your parents would like to see 
your good resolutions written out, and still better carried 
out J in practice. " Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's 
inclined." We have seen a tender sapling bowing down 
before the northern blasts, and we knew that if we would 
have it grow straight, we must put props to keep it up- 
right, until the fibre of the wood had gained firmness ; so 
do the young who are readily acted upon by passing cir- 
cumstances, with their flexible feelings and feeble resolu- 
tions, need to be sustained by the careful hand of experi- 
ence until the period when firmly established principles 
and maturity of judgment shall give consistency and 
strength of character. If a young tree, no longer a twig 
or sapling, has grown up bent and crooked, the most skillful 
culture will scarcely avail to make it upright. Ye are our 
twigs, saplings and young trees ; are you flourishing in a 



Twigs and Young Trees. 171 

healthful growth, so that you will be upright in character 
and fair specimens of womankind, with such principles 
and such firmness of purpose for good as will insure your 
future well being ? 

1845. 



ADDRESS XVIII. 

HUMAN LIFE ITS BEGINNING, ITS PROGRESS, AND 

ITS CLOSE. 

" You'll tell me man ne'er dies, but changetli life ; 
And haply for a better. He's happiest 
That goes the right way soonest. Nature sent us 
All naked hither, and all the goods we had, 
We only took on credit with the world ; 
And that the best of men are but mere borrowers. 
Though some take longer day." 

Human life is a state of prohation, or, in other words, 
of proof, to be applied as appointed by the Judge of man, 
to the soul, as it may, or may not, be fitted for the com- 
munion of the spirits of the just made perfect in a future 
state of purity and blessedness. Such is the great pro- 
blem of life before us — we cannot shrink from this 
scrutiny. God's eye is upon us all. He watched over 
us when we were incapable of thinking of our own 
existence ; He is ever with us. God is our Father in 
Heaven, we need not fear that He will be cruel or hard 
with us. " He knoweth our frame. He remembereth 
that we are dust." As a father pitieth his children, so 
tenderly doth He regard us. 

172 



Moral Agency. 173 

" Then why," you may ask, " are we taught to fear 
God, and tremble lest we may offend Him ?" This, my 
daughters, is the solution of such an inquiry. God has 
given you intelligence, souls which are emanations of His 
own spirit — He has not made you machines to be acted 
upon by external force merely ; but you have an internal 
power of resistance ; you are endowed with the faculty 
of choice between good and evil — there are two ways 
before you, the one straight and narrow, leading to life 
eternal ; the other, the more alluring path whose end is 
destruction. You may ask, as skeptics have done, " why 
God, if He love man, should have allowed him to be 
tempted V^ In other words, you might ask, " why is 
man made a free moral agent ?" for to be this, he must 
be capable of choosing between good and evil. So we 
perceive that even Almighty Power could not give moral 
dignity to a being, whose virtue was not that of choice — of 
free will. But God has provided all needful helps for our 
infirmities — in His revealed word. He has pointed out the 
dangers, and the way of escape. Let us, therefore, trust 
in Him ; He will lead us by the hand through dark and 
slippery places, and at last set our feet upon the rock of 
ages, never more to slide. 

Life is around us, in the vegetable and animal king- 
doms, existing under various forms. We will confine our 
thoughts at this time to human life, in which the physi- 
cal and moral are inseparably blended in this mortal 
existence. 

Lifant life, how mysterious does it appear I the little 



174 Hours with my Pupils. 

nncouscious lump of mortality, incapable of putting forth 
its tiny liaud to avert danger, insensible alike to looks 
of tenderness or indifference, lies in its cradle-cofi&n, dead 
to all around it, except in its sensual nature, as if its eyes 
were closed in the last earthly sleep ! Can the tiny 
form of this miniature man or woman, enfold a spirit 
destined to battle with life ; to meet and foil in his 
assaults the adversary of the human soul, or to join with 
him in bis unhallowed warfare upon the fallen race of 
man? Who but the Omniscient One can foresee what 
that infant shall be, when the germ of life having 
developed itself, the mature being in his physical and 
moral lineaments shall stand revealed ? The mother 
with tender love watches over her little brood, to her all 
are alike lovely — for each she " weaves her song," it may 
" be of melancholy joy." 

" No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine, 
No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine 
Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last 
Shall soothe this aching head for all the past ; 
With many a smile, my solitude repay, 
And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away." 

But in this one little family, what a diversity of charac- 
ter may hereafter appear ! A noble Christian philanthro- 
pist has helped to rock the cradle of his baby-brother, 
who grows up to be dissolute and unprincipled, an 
open violator of God's laws and a blot upon social life. 
Of two sisters who shared the same little bed in the nur- 
sery, and the same kind mother's care, one may become 



Infant Life. 175 

an exemplary Christian woman, while the other may sink 
to infamy and shame. 

" 'Tis aye a solemn thing to me 

To look upon a babe that sleeps — 
Wearing in its spirit deeps, 

The unrevealed mystery 

Of its Adam's taint and woe, 
Which, when they revealed lie, 

Will not let it slumber so." 

Infant life quickly passes away ; the beaming of awak- 
ened intelligence is seen in the glancing eye, in smiles 
and frowns. The child begins to exercise its own will, 
and to seek to subjugate the wills of others. At this 
point, education should begin ; the first lesson is that of 
obedience ; the child must be made to do what is com- 
manded and to abstain from doing wbat is forbidden. 
With serious aspect he is taught to say, '' I must submit 
myself to all my governors, teachers, spiritual pastors, 
and masters," and this early lesson should be followed up 
by a steady course of discipline, so that the habit of 
obedience may be early acquired ; thus only can the 
evils be averted, which are sure to fall upon those who 
have not learned, while young, to submit themselves to 
authority. 

The life of childhood passes rapidly away ; dolls and 
playthings soon cease to be cared for, and to amuse. Girl- 
hood and school-days come. There is a great change in 
the life at this period, little was expected of the child ; 
she was suffered to amuse herself. Happy childhood had 



176 Hours with my Pupils. 

no bard lessons to learn, it was allowed to pass unbur- 
dened witb care and labor. 

But there is no stopping in the journey of life, and the 
stage of girlhood comes with its many restraints and its 
onerous tasks — ia the higher walks of life, these restraints 
are confinement to a given routine necessary to secure 
advantages of education, and these tasks are the bending 
of the mind to study and research, and the wearisome 
practice necessary to acquire elegant accomplishments. 

The young girl emerging from childhood has her trials — 
she is no longer regarded as a mere plaything ; her actions 
becoming more constrained as she feels sensible of having 
grown to be a large girl, she loses the grace of childhood, 
and perhaps becomes awkward and embarrassed • this 
tendency is heightened by her being told of her faults of 
manner. The young girl froni twelve to fifteen often has 
many mortifications ; she does not know exactly how she 
ought to behave — if she should appear too womanly she 
thinks this might seem like putting herself forioard ; if she 
is childlike, this may appear ridiculous in one so old. 
She does not know her place, whether it be with the 
children, or the older persons. It is at this period of a 
girl's life, when a boarding-school is often a desirable 
asylum. The change has come, and the girl in her first 
teens can no longer be fondled as a child ; even her 
parents seem to be more distant towards her ; and, some- 
times, she feels sad and jealous ; thinks nobody loves her, 
that she is not lovable, and wishes she were away from 
home, or could do, or be, sometbing else. 



The Young Gikl sent from Home. 177 

She is sent from home to school, and this school-life is 
a new state; the school-giii has many responsibilities, and 
is obliged not only to learn a great deal, but to unlearn. 
She must arrange her own clothing, take care and keep 
her things together. She has no mother, aunty, or black 
mammy to run after her and pick up ; what she throws 
down, or leaves about carelessly, will probably be lost ; 
if she tear a dress she must mend it, or the rent will be 
made worse ; if a string be torn off a night-cap she must 
sew it on, or it will be lost, and this appendage of her 
night-dress become useless. She must learn to keep a 
watchful eye over her books, music and other belongings, 
so that nothing be lost ; thus she may be expected to 
acquire ideas respecting property ; and she is obliged to 
learn to respect the rights of others, as encroachments 
upon these are followed by ill-feelings, loss of reputation, 
and disgrace. She must learn to be active and indus- 
trious, is obliged to rise early to perform her morning 
duties, to assist in arranging her room, and be neatly 
dressed for breakfast at an hour when at home she would 
be indulging in her morning slumbers. She finds there 
is not so much fun and amusement in a school-girl's life 
as labor and thought ; but she must consider the import- 
ance of the objects in view — that the thoughtless, care- 
less child is to be formed and moulded into a prudent, 
judicious, useful woman. To accomplish so great an 
object, demanded an entire change of life and habits ; 
and the acquirement of knowledge, varied and extended, 
of the savoir faire, or knowmg how to do^ as well as the 

8* 



178 Hours with my Pupils 

learning of books. No one should wonder that oft- 
times the school-girl is discouraged, especially at first, 
before she has fully emerged from the chrysalis state of 
childhood into the fuller light and knowledge of the 
world she inhabits. She longs for home and its indulgen- 
ces, and to be again the little pet of the family ; but that 
could not be — if she could compare one of her little-girl 
frocks with the dresses she now wears, she would see that 
nature has been working a change, and she, too, must 
work ; at home, living idly and indulged, she would be 
awkward, disagreeable and ignorant ; at school, dili- 
gently devoting herself to the work of improvement, she 
is laying the foundation for future honor and respect- 
ability, preparing herself to be loved for worth of char- 
acter, to be the pride of her parents, and ready to 
act her part in life. But to insure all this there must be 
self-sacrifice and labor. 

School life, with many of you, is fast drawing to a close, 
your first teens have disappeared, with some, a score of 
years may be counted; you have persevered in a long and 
thorouo'h course of school education, and there can no 
longer be any good reasons for your remaining as pupils — 
the ripe fruit separates itself from the bough when it has 
matured ; this is nature's law. The immediate stage 
before you is that of taking your place at home, as young 
ladies ; having had advantages of education, much will 
be expected of you — that you will appear easy and affable 
in manners, knowing what to say, and how to act on all 
occasions. You must require much of yourselves in res- 



The Youkg Lady returned from School. 179 

pect to exercising an influence at home for the welfare 
and happiness of all within its circle ; you should have a 
quick eye to discern disorders and irregularities in the 
household, and energy to remedy them. Carry home 
with you the habits of early rising and industry which 
you have here formed. How much might be done by an 
energetic daughter in a family, where servants sleep away 
the best hours of the day, and rise to lounge about, doing 
things in the most careless and slovenly manner, because 
they will not take the proper way of doing them. How 
much might be accomplished in the way of reformation 
by the young lady returned from school, who should be 
seen to rise early, to walk about and notice what is going 
on. Servants would be ashamed to lie a bed late, or to 
indulge in idleness when their young mistress should set 
them an example of early rising and activity. 

A good daughter may do much towards rendering home 
pleasant — if a father's brow" seem shaded by care and 
anxiety, she may, by her cheerfulness and winning ways, 
dissipate the dark thoughts which press upon him. 
Perhaps he thinks of debts which he cannot well pay, and 
sees around him luxuries which he knows he cannot 
afford — the good and wise daughter will have tact to dis- 
cern the associations in his mind, and instead of begin- 
ning to talk of what she wants, and must have, and to 
plan new expense, she will show her father that she is 
careful, and trying to learn and practise economy; that 
she realizes the fact that he has expended a great deal 
for her, and is now determined to begin to help save 



180 Hours with my Pupils. 

expense. She finds her Arithmetic very useful in reckon- 
ing up amounts, in showing lier what things cost, and 
how soon a large sum of money may be dissipated where 
unrestrained expenses are indulged in. 

There is, probably, more domestic unhappiness in the 
world on account of female extravagance than any other 
cause. Those who earn money know how hard it is to be 
obtained, and they usually spend it cautiously, while those 
who are accustomed to disburse what others acquire, 
often do it with lavish prodigality. A husband soon 
becomes disgusted with a wife v/ho thoughtlessly incurs 
debts which he must pay, or forfeit his reputation — for the 
extravagant wife escapes the law, while the industrious 
husband suffers for her faults. Often we see a care-worn 
man, seldom smiling, or if he does it seems as if it were in 
mockery of his own gloomy thoughts, toiling day after 
day in his store or his office, slavishly performing the 
duties of his calling, whatever these may be ; — seldom he 
allows himself indulgences, he has no leisure — he must 
coin himself, yea his life, his heart's blood, for money — 
" I must have money," cry his wife and daughter. To be 
able to answer that call, there have been men of high 
standing in society, who have stifled the voice of con- 
science, bartered reputation, and ended a life of wretched- 
ness within the walls of a prison. 

The extravagance of a wife or daughter has driven 
many a man to commit forgery, to betray public and 
professional trusts, to cheat in business, and to incur debts 
with no probable means of repaying. Should we not, 



A Good Wife. 181 

then, as educators of women, seek to give you habits of 
economy and care in expending money ? Begin as daugh- 
ters to relieve your fathers of their heavy burdens — 
show that you sympathize in their cares and would gladly 
assist them if yon could. Many good daughters do aid 
their fathers by writing for them, by keeping accounts, 
and helping to arrange their business papers ; they may 
steal quietly into a business office where no servant would 
be permitted to go, and with ready tact manage to 
remove rubbish and waste papers which had accumulated; 
put in their places in the library, books which are scat- 
tered about, and thus give an encouraging air of taste 
and neatness to a place which before looked gloomy and 
confused ; and a little vase of flowers by its fragrance 
would speak to the father's or brother's heart, of a 
daughter's or sister's care and love, and thus lighten the 
task of wearisome labor. 

A wife who is a help-meet rather than a spend-thrift 
will confine her wants to her husband's means ; there 
are noble and accomplished women, even in these days 
of female recklessness and extravagance, who, forsaking 
the fascinations of society, devote themselves to their 
domestic duties, and even keep the business accounts 
of their husbands, while the latter are devoting their 
energies to the duties of a laborious profession. Such 
women should be honored, as they surely are, by the 
good and wise, and their daughters, we may expect, 
■will, in their turn, make good wives, in whom the 
hearts of their husbands may safely trust. 



182 Hours with my Pupils. 

How long continued may be your life at the home of 
your parents will depend on God's will and Providence ; 
but changes must come — you will not always be young 
ladies, though all of you may not assume the responsi- 
bilities of married life. You will not always have 
parents to live with; the circle in your childhood's home 
must one day become a broken one. The pillars of the 
edifice will fall, your parents must be taken from you, 
and one after another of your beloved ones be removed 
from this earthly scene. But you will ever find enough 
to do to fill up the measure of your days with useful- 
ness. You may find some friend of your early life, per- 
haps some school-mate whose marriage entailed upon 
her misery and suffering ; you may by your sympathies 
soothe her afflictions, and if you have means, may minis- 
ter to her who has been impoverished by a dissolute and 
improvident husband. As years advance you may not be 
disposed to count your single life an unblest one ; and 
yet, we do not say you should not marry. The ordinance 
of God's appointment, we may not condemn ; but the 
subject should not be lightly weighed — not decided in a 
party of pleasure; or disposed of as an author winds up 
his romance, by marrying the heroine because the readers 
expect it. 

" Some at the bridal, some at the tomb ;" 

In a few years what changes appear among the youthful 
travellers who go forth with joyous feet from our classic 
shades, to tread the paths " of life's enchanting way." By 



Close of Life. 183 

the past, I see the future reflected as in a mirror. An 
accumulation of wedding cards — of letters announcing 
the death of former pupils appear among my sacred 
relics. Here one writes to tell me of the loss of a 
beloved parent, brother, or sister ; and again, another 
informs me that she is thrown dependent on her own 
exertions, and asks to be aided in rendering her education 
available for her support, and it may be that of a 
family. 

Such is life, its beginning and its progress : 

" To each his sufferings, all are men : 
Condemned alike to groan ; 
The tender for another's pain, 
The unfeeling for his own." 

The close of a life which was well begun, and conti- 
nued in the practice of Christian virtues — whether this 
close come sooner or later — is not to be dreaded. It is 
but the entrance into a new and better life, for which 
this has been a preparatory state. 

1845. 



ADDEESS XIX. 



TIMES AND SEASONS. 



" To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose 
under heaven." — Eccle. iii. 1. 

These words of divine inspiration emanate from the 
same Mind which directs the course of the seasons, the 
succession of day and night, and the changes in human 
existence, from infancy to old age. 

How beautiful is everything in its season I In the 
spring of the year the bounding rivulet as if rejoicing in 
newly recovered freedom, rushes joyously on its way, 
murmuring to the fresh springing blossoms which deck its 
verdant banks. The birds, which had been driven from 
their summer haunts by the ungenial frosts, return to the 
groves and forests, and hail the return of foliage with 
their most cheerful notes. The sun comes forth from his 
chamber, as with a renovated existence, reflecting from 
flower, and bud, and leaf, from hill and vale, mountain 
and streamlet, the most cheerful, and the most bea,utiful 
coloring ; not as in midsummer, with gorgeous brightness, 
does this ruler of the seasons and the day, gild the face 
of nature in the delicately tinted spring. 

The young lambs frisk about among the flocks, and 

184 



Changing Seasons. 185 

their cheerful bleating bespeaks their eDJoyment of the life 
that God has given them — ^young and happy life is seen, 
too, among the herds of the stall ; and everywhere we 
perceive new existences springing forth in the vegetable 
and animal kingdoms. 

We v/alk abroad amidst the beauty and loveliness of 
this animated scene of nature, coming forth from the 
shroud and the grave of winter ; and our hearts are 
warm with love and admiration of that benevolent power 
which has effected this great change. But the season 
wears on ; we lose the exquisite enjoyment which it at 
first afforded us; and, as it gradually ripens into summer, 
we are pleased to see the perfecting of nature's works. 
The flowers of spring are succeeded by others of more 
gorgeous coloring; and as the beautiful and fragrant blos- 
soms wither and fade, the swelling germs of flowers, scarce- 
ly noticed, perhaps, in their blossoming, give promise 
of the fruits which are to succeed. The young animals 
have gained in strength and maturity what they have 
lost in mirthfulness. We see that nature is in a state of 
progression, and we are satisfied that it should be so ; 
even sober autumn has its pecuh'ar attractions, and stern 
winter finds us prepared, by a gradual change, to greet its 
frosts and dreariness, with a kindly feeling. The warmth 
of affection is heightened by the cold temperature, which 
draws the members of a family around the fireside. New 
scenes and new wants elicit in the mind of man new 
thoughts, presenting a new field to his imagination, and 
new scope for his emotions. 

In our own existence such is the anology to the chano;- 



186 Hours wmi my Pupils. 

ing seasons of the year, that nothmg is more common- 
place, than to compare youth to spring, middle age to 
midsummer, and old age to winter. But though the 
comparison be common-place, it is nevertheless beautiful 
and striking. And as one season gradually slides into 
another, so do the stages of life imperceptibly follow 
each other, and we go from infancy to adolescence, from 
youth to middle age, and from thence to old age, without 
being aware that the change is going on, until we find 
that it has passed ; though others may have perceived 
this long before we, ourselves, may have been conscious that 
the particular stage in life's journey has been completed. 
The mother tells her young child that he must not cry for 
trifles, for he is no longer a baby ; the little boy is still 
changing, and when he behaves in a childish manner, he is, 
by-and-by, reminded that he is now a great boy, and 
must not behave like a child. The awkwardness or 
ignorance which might have been tolerated at an 
earlier period, are considered as unpardonable in the 
young gentleman, and the pardonable impetuosity of 
youth is found unsuitable to mature manhood. But ardor 
and firmness, resolution and decision, gradually decay, 
and the pride of manhood is laid low at the approach of 
weak and feeble old age, when " the grasshopper becomes 
a burden," and " man is afraid of that which is high." 
And yet the strong man so gradually declines into the 
vale of years, that often he has been classed by others 
among the elders, long before he, himself, is sensible that 
he has passed life's meridian. 

" To evervthini}: there is a season." To the mornins: 



Changing Seasons of Life. 187 

there is sportiveness and activity, to the mid-day labor 
and care, and to the evening, repose. 

Bat to what do these observations tend ? Is there 
something for you, my dear young friends, to do, which 
has any relation to the times and seasons, to which we 
have referred ? Should the beautiful order and regularity 
of nature, merely elicit a transient admiration; or shall 
we educe from thence lessons of wisdom for the direc- 
tion of our conduct in life ? In the language of the 
poet, " Order is heaven's first law," and it should be 
ours also. We should consider times and seasons in re- 
lation to our own employments, and should, in our lives, 
exemplify the beauty of order and regularity. 

You who are now before me, may, in respect to age, be 
considered as children, older girls, and young ladies ; yet 
we must admit this classification is not so distinctive as to 
render its application clear, in all cases — for here, as in 
the world of nature around us, the boundaries are not 
distinct lines, but one state gradually passes into an- 
other. 

It was the complaint of a precocious young girl, now 
a grave matron, that in cases where obedience and re- 
straint were required, her mother would insist she was yet 
but a child; but when she failed in prudence and dignity 
of conduct, she was reminded that she had now become a 
young lady. The mother, however inconsistent it might 
seem, yet acted conformably to the nature of the case, 
for girls at a certain age may be regarded as children 
or young ladies, according to circumstances, and the 



188 Hours with my Pupils. 

places they are required to fill. Still each of you should 
consider the character, as to age, you actually sustain, 
and appear in, to others. A young girl no longer a little 
child should neither affect the babyish language and ac- 
tions of infancy, nor the manners of grown persons ; 
while the young lady should avoid extreme timidity 
on the one hand, or too great confidence on the other; 
for manners, which at one age, may please and amuse, 
at another, would excite disapprobation or contempt. 

There is a season for improving the mind and the 
heart ; — it is that of youth, especially the period devot- 
ed to education. This season is now yours, but it is 
rapidly passing away ; every day a portion of it is van- 
ishing, and bringing you nearer to the time when your 
pursuit of knowledge will be interrupted. You will find 
that -future years which will see you removed from the 
restraints of school, will present few favorable oppor- 
tunities for intellectual improvement. Various are the 
interruptions to liberal pursuits, and the hindrances in 
forming moral habits, in that intercourse with the world 
which follows an entrance upon its active scenes. Now, 
then, is your season for learning books, for learning how 
to learn, so that you may best improve future opportuni- 
ties. Now is your season for acquiring a literary taste, 
without which books and leisure can do little towards en- 
riching the mind with stores of knowledge, or elevating 
the intellectual character. An expensive library of val- 
uable books selected by a literary friend, or a hired lit- 
terateur^ may by purchase, be the property of one whose 



LiTEEAEY Taste. 189 

mind is incapable of appropriating the rich treasures it 
contains. 

At this season of your lives, you should study to correct 
the evil passions which you may have suffered " to grow 
with your growth, and strengthen with your strength." 
Think what you would wish to be, and strive to render 
yourselves such ; think what you would not be, and 
endeavor to avoid persons, places and circumstances, 
which would tend to mould your characters into that 
form from which you now shrink. The minds of the 
young, like plastic clay, easily take impressions from sur- 
rounding objects. 

Educators may do much towards directing the efforts 
of the young in properly moulding their own characters, 
but the work, after all, must be in a great measure, their 
own. If they resist what others attempt to do for them, 
they will certainly destroy all symmetry and proportion ; 
they can and may defeat all. How important then is this 
season of education to those whom I now address ! 
How rapidly is it fleeing from you ! Is there, then, any 
portion of it to be thrown away, or trifled with ? Surely 
not. So long as any one of you has one bad passion to sub- 
due, or one badhabit to reform, you have work to perform. 

Who can know what he may be led to do if he does 
not learn to govern his own spirit! How often a person 
begins a wrong course and keeps on doing wrong, in order 
to justify or conceal the first bad act which might have 
been but a trifling sin in comparison to what follows. 
Beware then of seeking to conceal or justify what you 



190 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

may do amiss ; better retrace your steps, and acknowledge 
you have done wrong. It is always interesting and afifect- 
iug to see a young person striving against faults of 
character, willing to think herself to blame, anxious to do 
right. God, and good angels love such an one ; she will 
have help to struggle with the infirmities of her nature, 
and will go on conquering her faults, and improving in 
goodness. In the season of youth she will perform the 
duty and labor which belong to it, and will have a reward 
in a peaceful and virtuous old age, and in a happy 
eternity. 

I would gladly hope that all of you will remember the 
words you have now heard. Some will do so ; their 
hearts have received the good seed; and reflection, and 
meditation will cause it to bear fruit; others have perhaps 
listened with curiosity, but with little desire to be made 
better ; they are satisfied with themselves as they are — or 
they are not willing to trouble themselves about their 
faults; it is not a pleasant subject I Some have been too 
indolent to listen, but have sat listless and indifi'erent. To 
them this is a season for dreaming or reverie ; satisfied 
that they are not to be questioned at the close of the 
address so that their inattention may be exposed. What 
have such to do with seasons or purposes 1 the seasons 
they desire are not seasons for doing good, or gaining 
knowledge ; their purposes — alas I how many live with- 
out any. Though to " everything there is a season, and a 
time to every purpose," there are many who disregard all 
seasons for the improvement of their own minds, all 



Season of Youth. 191 

seasons for being useful, all seasons for preparing for a 
future world — to them there is no settled purpose of 
action. 

May the number of those among you who care not for 
seasons, who live without a purpose, be small. Now is 
your season for resolving to be, and to do, what you should. 
Now is the time for you to form your settled, determined, 
purpose to turn from all evil ways, and seek for righteous- 
ness, and holiness of heart. You may possibly live to 
reform, if you defer this work, but we have no certainty 
for the future. Youth is the season you now have. May 
you improve it aright 

1845. 



ADDRESS XX. 

OUR GARDEN AND GARDENERS. 

"JSTow 'tis the spring, and weeds are sliallow rooted; 
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden, 
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry." 

Shakspearb. 

To Teachers and Pupils : 

After a short suspension of duty, we have again 
met to renew our labors ; some to impart, others to 
receive instr action. But though we have been resting 
from our usual occupations, nature has performed a great 
work ; she has thrown off the icy chains of winter, and 
comes forward to greet us in her robe of spring. And 
yet her great work was going on in the dark and silent 
tomb of earth, unobserved of all save Him who directs 
nature's laboratory in which the care-perfected seed and 
bulb are undergoing changes to prepare them to rise to 
light and life. At His word their resurrection is accom- 
plished, and the new plant, like a new creation, rises from 
decay and death. The leaf and flower buds which had 
been carefully folded up in their scaly ar downy covering 
now expand, and the trees and shrubs are again clothed 
with verdure and beauty. 

192 



Blossoms in Sylvan-Walks. 193 

" Look all around thee ! How the spring advances ! 
New life is playing through the gay, green trees ; 
See how, in yonder bower, the light leaf dances 
To the bird's tread, and to the quivering breeze ! 
How every blossom in the sunhght glances ! 
The winter-frost to his dark cavern flees, 
And earth, warm — wakened, feels through every vein 
The kindling influence of the vernal rain. 

" Now silvery streamlets from the mountain stealing, 
Dance joyously the verdant vales along ; 
Cold fear no more the songster's tongue is sealing, 
Down in the thick, dark grove is heard his song — 
And, all their bright and lovely hues revealing, 
A thousand plants the field and forest throng, 
Light comes upon the earth in radiant showers, 
And mingling rainbows play among the flowers." 

The German poet, Tieok, thus beautifully wrote of 
spring in the last century ; for from age to age, the 
observers of nature are presented with the same pheno- 
mena, and the hearts of men are gladdened by the joyful 
vernal season. 

When you now go forth in our '' Sylvan walks," you 
can gather for your botanical studies the Sanguina- 
ria,* the Epigea,f the Viola, the Anemone, and many 
others of spring's early flowers ; and the blossoms on 
some of the forest trees have come, as is their wont, 
before the leaf buds are fully expanded. The late ice- 
bound stresEffias murmur che^full^ a-s th^y flow on, and 

* Blood root. + Trailing arbutus. 



194 IIODES WITH MY PuPILS. 

the songsters of our groves and ancient forests, enrap- 
tured, sing their loudest, sweetest strains. " Youth, 
Spring and Flowers," they are all here — shall we too, 
not rejoice and be glad I Yes, we should do so ; and 
yet we must reflect, for we have something to do in life, 
as well as much to enjoy. Spring will pass away, its 
flowers will wither, and its foliage fall into " the sere and 
yellow leaf" to be blown about by the autumnal winds, and 
then sink into the bosom of its native earth. After 
spring, is the season of fruits, the harvest of nature. 
The analogy between youth and spring suggests that in 
the former, as in the latter, there must be a preparation 
for something valuable to follow the season of beauty and 
gladness. A garden of spring flowers, or showy plants, 
would be pleasant to look at, but for the support of life, 
fruits are required. Bread is from the fruit of flowers 
which have no beauty of form or color. The wise gar- 
dener, though he loves and values flowers, is most solicit- 
ous for the perfecting of fruits. 

Here, then, is a garden of plants, and here are gar- 
deners to tend them. Our pupils are the plants we are 
to cultivate ; sweet roses and proud magnolias, flourish 
side by side with white lilies and snowdrops; the blushes 
of the carnation are reflected by the pale japonica ; but 
have we nothing to do but to look at, and admire our 
flowers ; or, as in vegetable physiology, to study their 
formation and their habits ? If it were so, the work of 
education would be a mere amusement ; or rather, it 
would become needless.' But our plants have minds to 



Moral Cultuke. 195 

be cultivated, souls to be fitted for the vicissitudes of 
life, and prepared to be transplanted into celestial 
regions. Thzir habits have a moral element, which must 
be watched and developed. So, my friends and associate 
gardeners, our work assumes a serious aspect, and though 
we began with joyful salutations to youth, spring and 
flowers, we are obliged by a sense of duties resting upon 
us to turn our course to the grave paths of reflection, 
and to consider, what, as gardeners, we have to do. 
That we have, at least, been considered as faithful 
laborers in our garden, seems to be indicated by the 
increasing numbers of the objects of our care. 

But laying aside all figurative language as we enter 
into a subject so practical as the duties of teachers, 
let us pause a few moments to review the qualifications 
required in their proper performance. The life of a 
teacher may, by some, be regarded as one of dull and 
common-place labor, uncheered by bright or beautiful 
thoughts and aspirations ; the butterfly with gilded 
wings, fluttering in the sunbeams, if she could think in 
her giddy round, would doubtless fancy herself the queen 
of insects ; so do the butterflies of society look down upon 
those far nobler than themselves, because they do not 
glitter and float in idle enjoyment through the atmosphere 
which constitutes their world. Should one gifted with 
reason feel humiliated because the inmates of a lunatic 
asylum fancying themselves, kings and queens, deck their 
persons with fantastic array, and put on airs of supe- 
riority ? These self-deceived lunatics are not more blind 



196 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

to the truth, than are those, who living in indolence and 
self-indulgence claim superiority over such as devote their 
lives to their own improvement, and the education of the 
young, for the former should accompany the latter. 
There are those who go down to their graves " unwept, 
unhonored, and unsung," because they have lived but for 
themselves. They who have worshipped the world, and 
its vanities, can expect in return but what the world has 
to give — unsatisfying and empty are its pleasures ; its 
rewards are transient and worthless. But teachers must 
not be expected to be exempt from human imperfections. 
Doubtless many are urged into this profession by external 
circumstances, so that with them it is at first rather a 
necessity than choice. We will grant that this may be, 
and often is, the fact ; but when once the duties are under- 
taken by the conscientious and reflecting, their import- 
ance is felt, and more and more must the sense of 
high responsibility become active. We are not now 
referring to those necessitous foreigners who, for bread, 
engage in teaching languages and accomplishments, with 
never a thought beyond the emoluments received, or the 
popularity which will insure their business success. There 
are noble men and women, enlightened and conscientious 
foreigners, who merit respect and confidence for their 
devotedness to the improvement of their pupils, who labor 
con amore, in their duties, and fill their station with 
fidelity and dignity. 

The lady-teachers in this institution, are a band of 
sisters, gathered together from domestic circles in various 



English Schools as described by Dickens. 197 

parts of our country. I have not chosen my assistants 
from any one section, but have desired to assemble here 
the peculiar characteristics of the various portions of our 
great empire. From New England, the middle and 
southern States, I have sought to gather in one circle, 
intelligent and devoted young women, inspired with the 
noble desire to cultivate their own minds, and to impart 
to others the fruits of education. I say young women, 
for in general, educators who are advanced into middle 
life have become fixed in their own opinion, and cannot 
readily follow out the system prescribed by another. By 
aiding in normal education, I have happily been able to 
train teachers so as to fit them for their places here. So, 
as a mother and elder daughters, we have wrought 
together in the care and guidance of the younger ones. 
The elder daughters observe whether the various profess- 
ors, and foreign teachers, are faithful in their duties, and 
are ever ready to give the alarm if aught seems to be 
going wrong in our large family. This is a beautiful 
organization — it is one which binds us all in one close and 
endearing bond — mother, elder sisters, and daughters 1 
Let us bear in mind these sacred associations. There is 
another picture, such as Dickens and some other modern 
novel writers delight in portraying — as in " Do-the-Boy's 
Hall," the " Young lady's school with thirty boarders and 
six teachers," where exist cruelty and oppression on the 
one hand, and mean espionage and vulgar attempts at 
gentility on the other. 

When Charles Dickens was recently in our country 



198 Hours with my Pupils. 

and visiting the neighboring cities of Baltimore and 
Washington, I had a strong desire to invite him here, 
that he might see an American school, different from 
the miserable pictures which he had drawn of English 
schools. Bat Mr. Charles Dickens was then a great man, 
courted and followed by Americans who ought to have 
stood aloof from such servility — so I gave him no oppor- 
tunity to complain of any annoyance from me in the way 
of attentions. I had, when Miss Martineau was in this 
country, and on a visit to a friend of mine in Vermont 
(where I then resided), gone by invitation to meet her. 
While arrogantly boasting of the attentions she was receiv- 
ing, and lamenting her many engagements, she said in. 
relation to a distinguished family of Boston with whom 
she was expected to pass a few days : " One would not 
really wish their friends sick, to be rid of an engagement, 
but I should be glad if something were to happen which 
would excuse me from going." After this remark I said 
to Miss Martineau that I had hoped to have had the plea- 
sure of seeing her at my own home, but under the circum- 
stances, could not of course think of adding to the number 
.of those who annoyed her by invitations. It so happened 
that this lady wished to attend a great celebration, where 
a distinguished orator was to speak, at a town some 
thirty miles distant. It had been my intention to ask her 
to accompany us in our carriage, but as the case was, I 
let her take a stage-coach, and make her own way. Yet, 
after all, I was put into Miss Martineau's book on Ame- 
rica, as one who took great pains to see her, " a literary 



English Weiters on America. 199 

lady who boasted of her housekeeping, etc., who talked of 

Dr. Brown — and Miss M did not know what Dr. Brown 

until she discovered it was Dr. Thomas Brown, the late Pro- 
fessor at Edinburgh ; — and this lady's sister too, had been 
to see her on another occasion, and it seems she had gone 
a long journey to tell this lady in Vermont, what she. Miss 
Martineau, had said to her." Such is the twaddle, if I may 
use the word, that is too often printed about America 
in Europe. It was true that my sister, Mrs. W., did on 
her return from Boston tg Troy, visit me in my Vermont 
home, and spake of having seen Miss Martineau. They 
were both present at some educational meeting, where 
Mrs. W., as an educator, was distinguished and Miss 
Martineau had remained in the background. Mrs. W. 
had expressed to me her disappointment in Miss Mar- 
tineau ; this of course I did not mention to her, but 
merely said, my sister who visited me on her return from 
Boston, spake of meeting her. Yet, though our names 
do not appear in her book, we are there; and I have only 
to add, that if there is as little truth in other portions of 
it, as in that which had relation to what came within my 
own knowledge, the book is far from reliable authority. 

But this is a digression, though the chain of associated 
ideas may be readily traced, from schools to Mr. Dick- 
ens, and from his American travels to those of Miss Mar- 
tineau. But we owe much to the genius of the former, 
for his sketches of life in its various phases ; and the 
latter, in her earlier writings, especially those on political 
economy, manifested a strong and vigorous intellect ; 



200 HoiJES WITH MY Pupils. 

but it is unfortunate wlien writers of fiction forget tbat 
there are such realities as truth and fact. 

We say, then, that notwithstanding all the obloquy 
which has been heaped upon boarding-schools, and in too 
many cases but deservedly, we are conscious of aiming 
at excellence. I believe that you, my associate teachers, 
labor from a noble sense of duty, and that the services 
you here render, are not given from mere worldly consid- 
erations. Your love for me, and those whom you assist 
in educating, is deep and sincere. Living together 
as one large, united family, we can forget the outside 
world — some of you have left pleasant homes to aid in 
the great work in which we are engaged; you now say, 
and think, that j^ou shall never wish any other home, 
but fer be from me the desire that yoa may never depart 
hence to presided yetif own domestic circles, or to found 
other educational establishments to prepare for which 
you are now gaining the rich fruits of experience. No, 
let us enjoy the present, trusting in each other's affec- 
tion, and chiefly anxious to make the most of time as it 
flies, in the cultivation of the moral garden which we are 
called to "keep and dress" for our Lord and Master. 
Be content, faithful teacher, with your profession. Even 
in this world you are doubtless happier than the daugh- 
ters of pleasure. You are also free from the often harass- 
ing cares and the peculiar physical ills to which those 
are subjected who have entered into the marriage state. 
We would not use arguments to dissuade from this rela- 
tion when God's providence seems to lead to it. We 



Leadings of Fkovidence. 201 

believe in Providence, and that man should follow its 
leadings in humble submission. This Divine Providence 
has led us all hither, Principal, Teachers and Pupils ; 
God saw us a few years ago in our various homes, and 
in His omniscient mind, He then saw us here, as we are 
now, dwelling together in one of the loveliest spots of 
earth which He had created; and He has made us love 
one another, and feel happy in our mutual relations. 

This has been a very rambling address ; it was my in- 
tention to have dwelt somewhat in detail upon the duties 
of Teachers and Pupils, but I have indulged in express- 
ing emotions which the subject has naturally excited. 
We will not now come down from the height to which our 
imagination has raised as to the enumeration of special 
duties. It is certain that if we all have love for each other, 
zeal to do right ourselves and to influence those around us 
for good, there will be peace and happiness within our 
circle, and tiie great work of improvement both in our- 
selves and wherever our influence may extend, will be 
steadily carried forward. 

, 1846. 



9* 



ADDRESS XXI. 

RELATIVE DUTIES OF TEACHERS AND PUPILS. 

In a late address commenced with the intention of dis- 
cussing the relative duties of teachers and pupils, we did 
not proceed directly to our subject, but indulged in some 
digressions, which might have been more interesting, if 
not so directly useful as the consideration of practical 
duties ; this we are now to engage in, and for a short 
time let us give our serious thoughts to the subject. 

"Duty," says an anonymous writer, " is above all conse- 
quences. It commands us to look neither to the right, 
nor to the left, but straight forward. Hence every signal 
act of duty is an act of Faith. It is performed in the 
assurance that God will take care of consequences." 
In education, especially, must we be influenced by this 
single regard to duty. Thus a teacher, who, in the hope 
of gaining the love of a pupil, neglects discipline, or any 
other duty, does not look straight forward, but consults 
consequences rather than duty — and what consequences 
will arise from such remissness on the part of the teacher ; 
what but a want of respect for,*and confidence in her 
who fears to do her duty ? Let no teacher think to gain 
the love of pupils by failing to perform her own' duties ,-. 

202 



Favoeitism. 203 

but go forward, and do what is right, leaving the conse- 
quences to Him who can overrule all, for good. That 
teacher is to be distrusted who evinces a strong desire 
for popularity, who is usually seen with her train of atten- 
dant satellites; who singles out her ovm favorites, and 
leaves others, perhaps, equally or more worthy, to feel 
themselves neglected and uncared for. It may be very 
hard to maintain perfect impartiality, but it is a duty 
which should not be violated by the conscientious, teacher. 
Neither is any parent justified in showing partiality in his 
family — so that it should never be said, such a child is his 
or her mother's favorite, as we often hear. 

Experience shows the evils incident to particular sta- 
tions and situations. In a former address we took a 
poetical view of our associations together here, where 
principal, teachers and pupils are united in one family, 
forming one household. But does not discord sometimes 
rear its snaky head in the sacred family circle, and shall 
we, where so many and of such various tastes and habits 
are congregated, escape from all assaults of the serpent ? 
Human nature in its best estate is prone to err. Those 
v/ho are w^illing to devote themselves to labor and duty, 
are sometimes most tenacious of being appreciated by 
others. Any supposed impeachment of their motives, or 
depreciation of their merits, may change the calm cur- 
rent of their thoughts and disturb that equanimity of 
feeling which is required in order to act well the impor- 
tant part they have undertaken, and to render them exam- 
ples to others. Dr. Johnson says, that " so far is it from 



204: HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

beiug true, that men are naturally equal, that no two 
people can be half an hou? together, but one shall ac- 
quire an evident superiority over the other." If this be 
so, how is it when many persons, whose lives are devoted 
to improvement, and whose duties call them to govern 
others, are brought together within one social system — 
shall they be planets revolving each in her own orbit 
around a central point, or shall each, striving to be a sun, 
jostle others, in trying to fix herself into a position where 
her gravity shall overcome the attraction of all the other 
bodies in the system ? 

We cannot deny that habits of solitary study and 
meditation may be often unfavorable to cheerfulness, and 
that ready interchange of pleasant conversation which 
constitutes agreeable social intercourse. 

" Universal plodding prisons up 
The nimble spirits in the arteries." 

To this evil, teachers are exposed, and therefore it is 
important that they should often break o€ from solitary 
musing or study, and go forth among the pleasant scenes 
of nature which in this favored spot so lovingly invite 
you. Wherever you look, to whatever point you turn 
your footsteps, you see beauty and grandeur, united. 
Where can we find on earth, scenery in which these two 
qualities more harmoniously mingle ! — the more we con- 
template it, the more deeply do we feel the power of ex- 
ternal nature to soothe and elevate the mind. Cowper 
says : 



Companionship. 205 

" Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed, 
Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years." 

But then according to Byron : 

" To view alone 
The fairest scenes of land and deep, 
With none to listen, or reply 
To thoughts with which our hearts beat high, 
Were irksome." 

Therefore it is well to have companions in your walks; 
not such as would encourage any morbid sentimentality, 
but those who are natural, and, who 

" Nature love in all her varied forms." 

There is an evil which arises from anxiety for self-im- 
provement and great conscientiousness — it is that of 
wishing to know what others think of us, that we may 
be thus assisted in forming an opinion of ourselves ; this 
is generally unprofitable, and therefore it is well in tete-a- 
tete conversations, to avoid discussing our own faults or 
virtues. Confessions are often a lure for praise ; and it 
is difficult to speak of ourselves to others with perfect 
sincerity. 

To those who love and study natural science there are 
never-failing subjects for observation and discussion ; 
here, is a beautfful species of moss with its tiny flower, or 
a. lichoQ with its fairy cup. A fossil shell sets the imagi- 
nation to work to invent a cause for its being found so 



206 IIoDiiS WITH MY Pupils. 

far from the river's banks; a stone of volcanic origin gives 
the mind a new impulse, or a shining lizard seen from his 
lurking-place suggests another train of thought. So it is 
better to throw away sickly fancies and the idle com- 
plainings of the school of Byron and L. E. L.,* and be 
happy as those should be, who love God and the world he 
has made, and believe that, here, they have his work to 
do, and after he shall .have done with them on earth they 
will be taken by him, to a higher and happier state of 
being. 

Teachers are in danger of becoming dull and mopiug, 
or sentimental and romantic, and therefore should they 
invent for themselves a pleasant variety of recreations ; 
they should not fear sometimes to indulge in reading 
lighter works of humor, or romance, avoiding in poetry or 
prose the too sentimental class. They should talk and 
laugh, and love to see others do the same, in proper times 
and places. It is very desirable too that vfe should cul- 
tivate with those around us a spirit of cordial regard. 
This requires that we should have confidence in others, 
especially in their good will towards us. It is one of the 
great faults of authors, and others devoted to literary 
pursuits, to brood over fancied neglects, to imagine them- 
selves unappreciated. It would be but natural that 
teachers, associated together in one household, should 
sometimes be infected with this jealousy. A woman par- 

* Miss Landon, a poet of the present age, whose signatui-e was L. E. L. was 
the victim of unsanctified and ill-'directed imagination ; her writings, Hke those 
of Byron, have a sickly influence on the young. 



What Others think of Us. 207 

tiallj insane, went to her neighbor's house, and after some 
commonplace remarks, said to her, " I am going to kill 
yon." '' Why would you kill me ?" asked the lady. 
" Because you do not reverence me enough," was the 
answer. Perhaps we may sometimes feel displeased at 
others, because we imagine they do not reverence us 
enough ; but it would be well if we could care less for the 
estimate in which we may be held by those around us ; 
indeed it is an unprofitable speculation at the best. 

Laying aside then these analyses of our own minds and 
characters, we will turn to the more profitable inquiry 
of what we have to do. As I look around, I perceive a 
large assemblage of the young of various ages — a few 
who may be called children, many between this age 
and that of the young lady, and a large number of those 
who have arrived at mature years. They are all sent 
here to be educated, which according to our great states- 
maij Webster, means, '' that the feelings are to be disci- 
plined, the passions are to be restrained : true and worthy 
motives are to be iuspired, a profound religious feeling 
is to be instilled, and pure morality inculcated under all 
circumstances." Thus weighty are our responsibiUties 
who have undertaken to perform all this, and chiefly do 
they rest upon her who is the head of the institution, to 
whom these young persons have severally and individu- 
ally been intrusted as a precious charge from fond and 
anxious parents. To aid me in this great work of educa- 
tion, I have selected the teachers whom I see before me, 
some of whom have been for years my associates. Each 



208 Hours with my Pupils. 

teacher is invested with authority and influence, and acts 
in her particular station as the representative of the 
Principal, whom parents properly regard as accountable 
for the acts of her chosen associates, or neglect of duties 
intrusted to them, ia relation to pupils. It is therefore 
right that every teacher should understand well what 
she engages to do, and prepare herself for the perform- 
ance of her duties by every means in her power. No 
kind of knowledge of literature or science is useless to a 
teacher ; if she understand Latin or Greek, she will be 
the better able to teach the meaning and derivation of 
the words of her own language. History furnishes inter- 
esting anecdotes and illustrations. Rhetoric, if well under- 
stood, will aid in teaching composition, and the critical 
reading of the best writers. Moral Philosophy is not 
merely for the recitation room, but its rules and princi- 
ples should be reduced to practice, and the judicious 
teacher will not want for opportunities of illustrating 
and enforcing them in the conduct of life. One who is 
familiar with Botany and other branches of Natural 
History, has the key to the hearts of her pupils in the 
power to amuse and interest them in their walks abroad, 
by being able to unfold the wonders of a little way-side 
plant, a chance pebble, or insect. A beautiful sunset, 
or a rainbow is a grand exhibition of the laws of optics ; 
and the canopy of night, to one versed in Astronomy, rs 
a never-failing subject for conversation. 

A person of cultivated mind, may thus not only add 
greatly to the happiness of others, but thereby acquire 



Should not be confined to Text-books. 209 

an amount of influence whicli may be turned to great ac- 
count in education. Pupils soon observe whether their 
teachers are confined to text-books, or can draw illustra- 
tions from their own stores of knowledge. Almost 
everything you can learn by observation may, at one 
time or another, aid you in your educational labors. The 
human mind is a curious instrument intrusted to you 
to tune, and play upon ; to touch its cords aright re- 
quires a skillful hand. A humorous anecdote, a happy 
touch of well-meant satire, an affectionate smile, often 
permanently affect a stubborn spirit which appeals to 
reason might fail to influence. 

In addressing these remarks to teachers in presence of 
pupils, I have thought that good may arise from bringing 
before the mind of tke latter the sacrifices made for them, 
and the preparaMon which is required of the former, to 
fit them for their responsible duties. Bat as duty and 
obligation are reciprocal, pupils may consider what should 
be their conduct towards those who thus devote them- 
selves to their happiness and improvement. " The 
authority of instructors," says Wayland, " is a delegated 
authority, hence the analogy between him and the pupil 
is analogous to that of the parent and child, it is the 
relation of superiority and inferiority. The right of the 
instructor is to command ; the obligation of the pupil is 
to obey. The right of the instructor is however to be 
exercised for the pupil's benefit. In the exercise of his 
authority he is responsible to the parent whose professional 
agent he is. He must use his own best skill in governing 



210 Hours avith my Pupils. 

and teaching bis pupil. He must use his own intellect in 
the exercise of his profession, and iu the use of it, he is to 
be interfered with by none. When he and the parents can- 
not agree, the connection should be dissolved." " Such" 
says Wayland, "being the nature of the relation be- 
tween the instructor and pupil, it is the duty of the former 
to enforce obedience, and of the latter to render it. On 
the fulfillment of this duty on the part of an instructor, 
the interests of education and the welfare of the young, 
vitally depend. Without discipline, there can be formed 
no valuable habit. Without it, when young persons are 
congregated together, far away from the restraints of do- 
mestic society, exposed to the allurements of ever-pre- 
sent temptation, every vicious habit must be cultivated. 
The young may applaud a negligent and pusillanimous 
instructor, but when in after years he shall suffer the 
result of that neglect, he will not fail to regard with bitter 
feelings, him who betrayed the trust committed to him." 

And will not the pupil bitterly repent in after years, if 
her conscience reproach her with having by her own mis- 
conduct, made sorrowful the hearts of her faithful instruct- 
ors ? While teachers admit the force of their duties, let 
pupils also realize their obligations, and strive to render 
those duties pleasant, by self-control and earnest endeavors 
to perform their own part. 

It is comparatively easy to assign to others their duties, 
and to give them rules of conduct. It is easy, too in res- 
pect to ourselves, to see what at the present moment lies 
within our circle, and to mark out for ourselves a line of 



Adaptation. 211 

conduct. But there is a constant change going on around 
us, to which we must assimilate ourselves, varvini^ our 
actions to meet the present exigencies. Thus, quickness 
of apprehension, the ability to shift our course to suit with 
the gentle breeze or the boisterous winds that may spring 
up, are essential to the navigation of the sea of life. ^ Wo 
must have our charts, our compass, and general rules, but 
cases will often arise, where these seem insufficient guides. 
In this little world of ours, we all, in our several stations 
and relations, have our peculiar trials and perplexities, and 
must at times be thrown upon the resources of our own 
judgment and conscience to direct us through unexpected 
difficulties arising from the caprices of others, the misap- 
prehension by them of our actions, or from our own unin- 
tentional deviations. She to whom in God's jDrovidence 
are intrusted the hopes of so many parents, has a fearful 
responsibility resting upon her. She has chosen you, the 
lady-teachers here present, to be her assistants in the work 
of education. She is accountable for your acts and for 
your influence. Years have passed since some of us have 
sustained this relation. But years with their changes have 
their influence in rendering persons more tenacious of their 
opinions, less yielding and accommodating. Increasing 
years, especially if accompanied with physical debility, 
doubtless tend to increase morbid sensibility. We may 
be afraid that others do not " reverence us enough," we 
may be unwilling to yield to others any points we have 
made — we may become less loveable in character as in 
person, as years increase. Be it so — God orders all, and 



212 Hours with my Pupils. 

the Christian will say, " Though He slay me, yet will I 
trust in Him." Let the elder children affectionately sustain 
the steps of the parent whose feet may sometimes slide. 
Let the younger ones seek by cheerful obedience to make 
their home gladsome, and so to improve the advantages 
given them, that when they become actors in the scenes of 
life, they may do honor to the training of their school- 
home. 

, 1846. 



ADDRESS XXII. 

PROGRESSIVE IMPROVEMENT. 

The current of time bears us onward, and is ever 
changing the relations of intelligent beings. Thus, 
although our granite edifice remains unchanged, though 
the same walls which echoed the words uttered in former 
years, now reverberate our accents ; though the same 
lofty trees exhibit their rich foliage in our majestic groves, 
and the same shrubs offer their annual tribute of spring 
flowers, there is a great change in the living tablea20 
before me — not all are here who have formerly met with 
us, but we see strangers in their places. 

There is sorrow in parting forever with beloved pupils, 
who must leave us when they have become inured to dis- 
cipline — as their intellectual powers have become de- 
veloped, and they have endeared themselves to us by 
dutiful and affectionate conduct, then we must part with 
them. What parent would not be sad to see his children 
depart, and their places filled by strangers I yet though 
you all came as strangers, you remain not long as such, 
you are added to the large family, and are hereafter to 
be considered as its children. But when I look aroand, 
there is a sad vacancy — they are not here, many belcfved 

213 



214 Hours with my Pupils. 

ones whom for years I have been accustomed to meet in 
this place, and whose bright intelligence often enkindled 
thought Avithin my own mind. It was remarked by a 
professor in a European university, that when lecturing 
to his students, he was in the habit of fixing his eyes 
upon some particular member of bis class, and judging 
of the merit of his address by the changing expression of 
his countenance. I can say that not one but many pupils, 
who are not now here, have been thus often particularly 
observed by me ; that their respectful attention to my 
words, the kindling expression of their countenances, 
beaming with love and intelligence, have given to these 
occasions an interest never to be forgotten. An impres- 
sion of moral beauty has been thus made upon my heart, 
which time cannot erase, and which I have faith to be- 
lieve will accompany my spirit into the eternal world, 
where may be iny next meeting with many of those dear 
children of my care and love. 

And yet, they might at first have been impatient of 
control, not perceiving the importance of restraints to 
which they were subjected. Perhaps at first, as some of 
you may now be, they were anxiously counting the days 
and months they should be obliged to endure such confine- 
ment and self-denial ; but, when their school days termina- 
ted, and they were called upon to bid a last adieu to a 
home where they had received kindness and protection, 
to leave forever the guardianship of those who in all sin- 
cerity and faithfulness had watched over their welfare, 
then how sorrowfully did they look upon the past, 



Impoktance of First Bipeessions. 215 

how deeply regret that they had ever in aught grieved 
those friends, or despised the home which had sheltered 
them from temptation, and afforded them intellectual sus- 
tenance ; where good habits had gradually been formed, 
and where they had learned to fear to do wrong, and 
to shun all " evil ways and works." 

May heaven's blessings rest upon the heads of those wdio 
have gone from us, and may they long live to prove the 
benefits of a liberal and thorough course of female edu- 
cation, to do good in the world by an example of correct 
and elevated conduct, and in the faithful discharge of all 
the duties of life I 

Many others are now treading in their footsteps, their 
juniors, who have had the benefits of their good examples, 
and who Will, it is hoped, finish their scholastic course 
with the approbation of their alma mater, and the satis- 
faction of their friends. 

But strangers are here, whom we have yet to study and 
to know, for be assured that you are forming for your- 
selves a character and reputation, while perchance you 
are only occupied in making up your minds respecting the 
persons and the place, with whom, and where you are to 
pass a portion of your future life. When a young girl 
goes from home to reside among strangers, how seldom 
does she estimate aright the importance of the first im- 
pressions she may make, of herself, upon the minds of 
others. While thinking of the indulgences of home, 
weighing trifling inconveniencies, and looking upon persons 
and things in the most unfavorable light, how much bet- 



216 Hours with my Pupils. 

ter to try to render herself agreeable, and gain a good 
standing in her new position. She should reflect that 
others will take the liberty to form opinions respecting 
herself ; and that while she may be free in her censures 
upon what to her is new and strange, she perhaps is ren- 
dering herself an object of severe and unfavorable remarks 
to those about her. 

One great advantage to the young in going abroad, 
consists in their being taught the value of character. A 
young girl accustomed to servile attentions at home, to 
consideration on account of the wealth or respectability 
of her parents, has yet to learn what it is to stand upon 
her own merits. 

All pupils meet here on an equality, except so far 
as greater moral worth, intelligence, or more agreeable 
manners, may create distinctions. We do not inquire 
whose parents are more wealthy, more distinguished, 
more fashionable, or more ancient and aristocratic. Those 
pupils who are most worthy of esteem and love, stand 
highest while here, and are most remembered for good 
after they have left the institution ; such leave behind 
them the best characters, and it is not difficult to predict 
that they will hereafter, in Ufe, take precedence of those 
who may have trusted to their wealth or the respecta- 
bility of their friends, rather than their own intrinsic 
merits. 

We call on you all, therefore, to look well to yourselves, 
to cotfs&^e!' what are your dispositions and intentions- 
have yda come hither intending to devote the energies of 



Necessity of Rules. 217 

your minds to the attainment of knowledge, to perfect- 
ing yourselves in accomplisliments wbicli may hereafter fit 
you for refined society, graiify your friends and enliven 
the domestic circle ; — above all, have you come hither in- 
tending to be letter than you ever have been, and to do 
better than you ever /lave done ? If improvement be your 
object (as assuredly it was that of your friends in sending 
you hither), let me assure you, that you shall have every 
possible assistance in this work. We have no rules that 
are intended to annoy you, or to place you ujider any 
unnecessary restraint — none but what we consider neces- 
sary to the good order, welfare, 9.nd happiness of the 
pupils. 

We ask you to form no habits here, which will not be 
for your future happiness, usefulness, and respectability — 
we ask no servile obedience to tyrannical laws ; no con- 
strained deference to those who have no love or care for 
you ; but we ask your love and confidence. We ask you 
to be sincere and open, to be what you ought to be, 
rather than dissemblers concealing as under a mask 
jealous and corroding thoughts, and willing to do wrong 
if you can do so without detection. God's eye is ever 
upon you ; He sees what are your motives of conduct, 
how you spend the time He has allotted you, and what 
improvement you make of advantages which His provi- 
dence has afforded you. In our excellent morning service 
you will find petitions for all needed grace. First, after 
asking God to pardon your sins and give your true repen- 
tance you pray that He will pat from you '' all evil ways 

10 



218 Houiis WITH MY Pupils. 

and iDorksP Think upon this prayer when you are 
tempted to fall iuto evil ways, and do evil works, and in 
sincerity of heart call upon God in the language of our 
daily evening service: ''Deliver us, merciful Lord, 
from the dangers that beset us ; from all evil and mischief, 
from all vanity and lies; from ^ride, impatience, and irn^er- 
tinence ; from envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitaUe- 
ness : from inattention, carelessness and sloth; from selfishness 
and self -indulgence ; from lying deceits and corrupt examples. 

Would you become the children of God, resist the sug- 
gestions of the adversary of your souls, who would seduce 
you to evil ; resist him and he will flee from you ; you 
must be in earnest in the work of your own improvement, 
for " the hour cometh when no man can work." Piety 
must be at the foundation of all your good resolutions, 
or they will be fleeting as the morning dew. " The fear 
of the Lord is truly the heginning of wisdom ;" with their 
hearts imbued with this, the young may walk safely 
through the fiery trials of the world, and pass unharmed 
through its dens of lions ; all is included under this one 
word — piety. 

Some may conduct well for the sake of reputation, and 
others for the approbation of friends, but the pious would 
do right, because they love and fear God ; they would 
avoid sin, not to please others, but because their own 
soul abhors ^^ evil to ays and works P 

We who are charged with the instruction and care of 
sd many young persons, have much to do. What can sus- 
tain us under our duties and privations, but the desire to 



High Calling of Educatoes. 219 

do our Master's will, and faith in his divine assistance ? 
" Feed my lambs," said the blessed Jesus to his disciples ; 
— though educators are not set apart for the sacred work 
of the ministry, they have a high and holy calling — they 
are appointed to aid the young in their preparations for 
life ; and the principles formed while under such influence 
may .fix their condition in the w^orld to come. Shall 
teachers be as bright examples to the young, or stumbling- 
blocks in their way to eternal life ? Serious and weighty 
are the considerations w^hich should press upon our minds 
in yiew of this responsibility. Let us bear with patience 
the imperfections and errors of the young, considering 
our own deficiencies in the sight of God ; — let us strive by 
kindness and affection to win them over to the cause of 
truth and virtue, and to the w^ork of their own improve- 
ment. But let us never, through the desire of popularity, 
or fear of offending our pupils, indulge them in what is 
WTong, or pass over their offences through fear of their 
resentment. 

We are all accountable to God for the manner in 
which we discharge our duty, and we should be fearless 
where principle is concerned. It would be very easy to 
do right if this were always to act in a way to please 
those who are about us, and whose love we desire to se- 
cure. The most difficult part of our duty to our pupils, 
is to say and do that which will cause them, for the time, 
to dislike us, or which may lead them, for the time be- 
ing, to doubt our wish to make them happy ; but we must 
not by such considerations be deterred from acting accord- 



220 IIoUKS WITH MY PuFILS. 

ing to our understanding of duty and right ; and we 
may be sure, that hereafter, if not now, we shall be re- 
warded by the love and gratitude of such as are capable 
of noble sentiments; — yet we must look to a higher source 
than earthly affection or approbation, for our reward. 
We have all, Instructors and Pupils, met under this roof 
as a family, united by many common ties and interests; 
let us therefore love one another, and strive to render each 
other's burdens light, by mutual sympathy and kindness. 
For myself, I would ask indulgence from all ; all of 
you have cares and duties common to some others, I have 
those peculiar to my own position as Principal, and in 
which none can wholly sympathize because they cannot 
feel their weight and pressure. In years past, my thoughts 
have often reverted to my pleasant home among the 
green hills of Vermont, and I have said, " there will I 
rest when the labors in which I am engaged may be laid 
aside, and an evening of calm old age may follow a life 
of toil." It was natural I should sigh for that quiet 
home, and for the literary leisure I there enjoyed while 
preparing many of my educational books. I seem now 
to see it, as it stands overlooking a beautiful New Eng- 
land village embowered by forest trees, presenting with 
its appropriate architecture a picture of beauty such as 
the eye seldom rests upon. What a crowd of associa- 
tions are connected with that home I Every shrub and 
flower has its history ; in a small village * at a little dis- 

* Guilford, three miles from Brattleborough, Vermont. 



Passing Regekts. 221 

tance stands the old cliurcli where is now our family pew, 
with its books, carpets, and cushions, as we left thera 
nearly seven years since — and there is the cemetery, seen 
on yonder eminence, beneath whose solemn shades I had 
thought, at last, to rest 1 

A few months since, when the Green-mountain region 
was decked in the rich tints of a New England autumn, 
I visited that spot, more lovely in reality than even my 
recollection had painted it. A strong desire to remain 
there, and to escape from the cares and labors which 
Patapsco required, seized upon my spirit, and it was not 
without tears, that resisting such temptation, I tore my- 
self away, leaving as my tenants a refined and intellec- 
tual family, who were capable of enjoying the natural 
beauties of the spot, appropriately called " Boscobel," * 
May it not be in vain that I have returned to toil for 
a few more years, should my life be spared, in the duties 
of education, and may we all during our future life on 
earth, and in Heavenly Mansions, be enabled to review 
with satisfaction the period of time which we shall here 
spend together in the great work of progressive improve- 
ment. 

May, 1846. 

* Meaning Beautiful Gr<ytc. 



ADDRESS XXIII. 

STUDY. 

" If you devote your time to Study, you will avoid all the irk- 
someness of this life ; noF will you long for the approach of night, 
being tired of the day ; nor will you be a burden to yourself, nor 
your society unsupportable to others." 

When we commenced the school session which is in a 
few days to close, spring with tardy steps was following in 
the train of winter. A few early flowers greeted us with 
their cheerful smiles, giving the assurance that an ever- 
watchful Providence during the apparent vegetable death 
of winter, had been busy within the dark, cold earth, per- 
fecting the germs of beauty and loveliness which were to 
adorn the face of nature in her more genial season. And 
so, day by day, we were greeted by new flowers, which 
seemed to hold up their heads to us in friendly salutation, 
as if to say, " you see I have come back again, God has 
taken care of me as well as you, and though I have been 
buried in the damp, cold ground, I have been raised again 
to life, and all the happiness of which my vegetable nature 
is capable." Have we read aright this lesson taught us by 
every plant which springs up from the dark clods of earth ? 
If we have, our hopes of a resurrection from the cold sleep 

222 



The Thorough Scholar. 223 

of death have been coafirmed; — the analogy is too strik' 
ing to be overlooked. 

As new flowers diversified the scenery abroad, so 
a succession of new faces presented themselves to 
add a new interest to scenes within. Many who a few 
months since were strangers to each other, have formed 
intimacies which, however widely you may be scattered 
in your future life, v»^ill never be forgotten, though 
new friends, new scenes and new relations may in some 
degree lessen the vividness of your present feelings. 
The current of life, animal, vegetable, intellectual and 
moral, has been moving onward, and now, we number by 
days, the close of the present school-year. We have all 
had much to do — first, improvement of the mind in the 
studies assigned to you has occupied much of your atten- 
tion — or if not, it should have done. But what a differ- 
ence between a thorough and a superficial scholar ! 
To the former, the most difficult sciences are made to 
yield up their truths. The thorough scholar will not 
be satisfied with a partial, indefinite knowledge of sub- 
jects, but possess herself of their nature and bearings. 
She may have to study hard, but she knows of no other 
way ; she has not learned to skim over a lesson, and 
consider it as learned, when in reality she knows nothing 
about it ; that is, of its true meaning. When attempt- 
ing to learn a language, the thorough scholar makes sure 
progress — she does not go by mere sound in conjugating 
or defining words ; she does not require that her teacher 
shall give her the key-note to begin with. For instance. 



224: Hours with my Pupils. 

if called upon to conjugate the French yerb aimer, to love, 
in the indicative mood, present tense, the good scholar 
can begin jaime, and go on, tw aimes, il aime — but the 
superficial scholar will need to be set a-going or wound 
up like a watch, by being told the first person, and then 
as a stone will move for a little distance when it is pushed, 
our superficial scholar will go on, perhaps through the 
difi'erent persons ; though when she comes to the third 
person plural, she will be likely enough to say. Us ai-ment, 
although she has been daily told for a year, that ent at 
the end of words in the third person plural is silent. If 
it be the Latin verb dmdre, the thorough pupil is asked to 
conjugate, she remembers that it is a regular verb of the 
first conjugation, that its indicative mood, first person is 
amo, and then she can go on to amds, amdt, etc. — but the 
superficial scholar is in a mist ; she has not learned under- 
standingly, but as a parrot, to repeat after others, and she 
looks vacantly, or with a beseeching glance, waiting for 
the teacher to commence, and then after dmo has been 
said, our stone begins to roll on, and we have amas, amat, 
and the tune naturally brings out amamus, amatis, amant, 
though the change of accent by the addition of a syllable 
may daily have been explained and pointed out by the 
teacher, especially in that very case of am-d-mus and din- 
dtis. The superficial scholar can never be made to under- 
stand why y is used in French in such cases as il-y-a ; nor 
how in il aimerais, he might or could love, the words might 
or could are expressed; though she may have been rei^eat- 
edly told that the words might or could are denoted by 



The Supeeficial Scholae. 225 

the ending in ais. If the superficial scholar can remem- 
ber long enough to recite something which some one else 
has found out for her, she thinks she knows her lesson, 
when, in reality, she has no understanding of it what- 
ever. 

In mathematics, the superficial scholar is satisfied with 
the mere ability to say something, no matter whether to 
the point or not. She will run on with plus and minus, 
confounding these distinctions until she proves herself to 
be minus of all thorough knowledge of the science of 
algebra. In geometry, she will say that A is equal to 
B, and D is greater than B, because B is equal to A ; 
thereby proving that she, in intelligence, is equal to 
a superficial thinker. 

But our time would fail in attempting to show the dif- 
ference between the thorough and the superficial scholar 
in the various branches of education. The disposition 
which can rest satisfied with superficial attainments, is 
found to diffuse itself through the whole round of accom- 
plishments, as well as literary and scientific departments. 

In music, this is seen in the false manner in which notes 
are played or sung ; many a young lady conscious of her 
want of thoroughness, solaces herself with the idea, that 
if she make a noise upon the instrument, put on an air 
of nonchalance, and seem self-satisfied, others will suppose 
she performs well ; but very superficial must she be, who 
does not know that at this day, when music is so gene- 
rally understood, her incorrectness as to time and tune 
will be readily discovered. 

10* 



226 HouES WITH MY Pupils. 

In composition, of all branches, the superficial mind 
perhaps most discovers itself — attempts to steal the 
thoughts and language of others will be here apparent ; 
ignorance of the rules of correct reasoning, of the power 
and value of words, and even of grammatical construc- 
tion, is exhibited ; or perhaps there may be fluency of 
language with very little sense ; for shallow minds may 
have words at command, though they can hardly be said 
to stand for ideas, as words are nothing except as they 
represent thoughts. 

Besides the cultivation of the mind in the attainment 
of knowledge, which some falsely imagine to be the chief 
and almost the only branch of education, is the improve- 
ment of the heart, or the cultivation of the moral and reli- 
gious feelings. You have all found as you went on from 
day to day, that you had constant need of watchfulness, 
to keep within the path of duty amidst the trials and 
temptations which befell you in your way. Trials of 
temper from the thoughtlessness or unkindness of others, 
and trials in overcoming your love of ease and self-indul- 
gence ; indeed no day perhaps passed without some trial ; 
temptations, too, from various sources have been in your 
pathway. 

In reviewing your conduct during the school-year 
which is now expiring, you may be conscious of having 
injured the feelings of others by unkind treatment, or 
passing them by with haughty indiiference not less 
wounding to the sensitive heart than open contempt. 
You may have made uncharitable remarks, or circulated 



Reviewing the Past. 227 

slanderous reports, calculated to injure another ; you 
may have sovv'n the seeds of suspicion and jealousy among 
friends ; you may have ministered to folly by flattering 
the vain, and depressed the meek by pride and arro- 
gance. You may have fostered in yourself a spirit of dis- 
content, refusing to enjoy the blessings bestowed upon 
you J or, through indolence, you may have neglected 
your advantages. Above all, you may have trifled with 
religious privileges ; you may have profaned the Lord's 
day, neglected his holy word, and done despite to the 
spirit of grace which has striven in your hearts. 

In a few days our circle will be broken up, and never 
again shall we all dwell together as we have done in the 
same home, and sustain to each other the same relations. 
Many of you may never meet again in this world — you 
may not again behold the face of her who, however im- 
perfectly her duties have been discharged, has yet 
desired to be faithful, knowing her own great account- 
ability to the Father above. You may not again behold 
the faces of those kind teachers who have labored for you, 
often under discouragements ; you will think of their 
efforts, hereafter, differently from what you perhaps have 
done. When you reflect how much easier it might be for 
a teacher to pass by deficiencies than to remedy them, 
and that it is those who are strictly conscientious who 
are willing to take upon themselves unpleasant duties, 
you will feel the higher respect for those who have had 
the moral courage to do what is right. 

In the education of the young it requires firmness and 



228 HouKS WITH MY Pupils. 

resolution to pursue what is right, fearless of giving 
offence, and a high, unswerving moral purpose. The 
young talk a great deal of teachers being kind. Well, 
what is kindness in a teacher ? Is it best displayed in 
trying to do all possible good to the pupil, or in allowing 
that which is hurtful, through fear of not being called 
sweet and amiable ? Suppose we are vsick, and send for a 
doctor, and the doctor, though finding our heads badly 
affected, our hearts diseased, and our stomachs in a dis- 
ordered condition, instead of prescribing suitable reme- 
dies, though unpleasant, for the bad heart and the swelled 
stomach — suppose this doctor, finding out what we like 
best to eat and drink, and what amusements please us 
most, tells us to indulge ourselves in all desirable gratifi- 
cations, though he knows they will make us worse ; he 
knows they made us sick — that what ails us, is the effect 
of self-gratification; but he wishes to please us, to be 
popular, to have us say, " What a sweet doctor I How I 
love him I" No, you would not long love such a doctor ; 
and as soon as you thought about his conduct rationally, 
you would say, " I would never have that doctor again ; 
I would never put any friend of mine under his 
care." 

The educator finds patients in his pupils— many heads 
badly affected, many hearts diseased, many stomachs 
filled with indigestible pride, and swollen with vanity. 
We must be faithful to our duty ; we must use proper 
remedies, even at the risk of being called cold-hearted 
and severe. But when our patients recover, then we have 



When Pupils are not Patients. 229 

our reward in their gratitude and love; and the first sign 
of their being convalescent, or of not requiring treatment, 
is when they show the proper feeling towards those whose 
lives are devoted to their improvement. 

But doubtless, too, there may be something to be 
regretted on the part of the teacher as well as the 
taught, on future retrospection. It would be better 
for the teacher to err on the side of indulgence rather 
than that of seventy, as it would be better for the 
doctor to let nature alone than to give too much medi- 
cine. The present happiness of the young should not be 
lightly regarded, nor should heavy burdens be laid on 
youthful shoulders. Those who have passed their bright 
days of youth, may be refreshed by mingling with the 
young and light-hearted, while the latter should seek to 
learn wisdom from the more experienced. 

" Something of youth, I in old age approve, 
But more the marks of age in youth I love. 
"Who this observes may in his body find 
Decrepit age, but never in his mind." 

— -1849. 



ADDRESS XXIV. 

FOR A CLOSING SESSION. 

There is something in the word last, when applied to 
any period of time, which falls mournfully upon the ear ; 
all closing scenes appear in a degree sad ; even joyful 
occasions, which yet mark the termination of any course 
of time, are mingled with sorrowful associations. The 
last hour of the day, the last day of the week or of the 
month, and the last day of the year, suggest each their 
peculiar reflections. The closing of a school-year is now 
the subject of our contemplation. 

There are some who pass through the varied scenes of 
life with little apparent thought of the past, or care for 
the future. To them, the gathering of a family group, 
after a period of separation, suggests no thankfulness to 
God for His preserving care ; sickness and death in this 
circle of family or friends cause a transient, profitless 
sadness, which passes away with the occasion, leaving in 
the heart no germs of suggestive meditation to develop 
the fruits of wisdom. A marriage scene, to such, is 
merely one of gaiety, feasting, and bridal attire ; they 
think not of dark shadows which may lie in the pathway 
of those whom they see setting out together in the journey 

230 



Suggestive Meditations. 231 

of life. The solemn vows pronounced at the altar are, to 
them, mere words of ceremony ; an unmeaning simper or 
giddj laugh often attest their want of thought or sen- 
sibility. 

We pity those who strive to banish from their minds 
all reflections which, by presenting life in its true aspect, 
might render them less gay, and less inclined to follow 
after the vain and unsatisfying pleasures of the world. 

But why should any child of earth wish to deceive 
himself as to his true condition ? AVe commiserate the 
deluded maniac who, sitting down amidst want and 
wretchedness, exults in fancied riches and power ; — or 
one upon whom some impending calamity is ready to fall, 
who is yet wholly unconscious of his situation ; should we 
not, then, pity those who act the part of the imbecile in 
their self-delusion and blindness to realities, amused with 
toys and trifles, when they should be seriously applying 
their hearts to learn wisdom ? 

It has been the great object of my appeals to you, to 
awaken the powers of reflection and conscience with 
which you are endowed, but which too often seem to 
remain dormant and inactive. The earnest desires which 
some of you have recently expressed to be instructed, and 
the attention with which you listen to my words, give me 
courage to proceed in my course of moral teachings ; 
would that my ability were more commensurate with the 
great work to be accomplished — that the experience of 
years might be accompanied by the energy of youth ! 

In all human organizations, where a number of indi- 



232 Hours with my Pupils. 

yiduals are combined to form one body, each has his own 
particular office; the head plans, the limbs execute — the 
former must depend on the latter to carry out and perfect 
its designs ; and it is important for the good of the whole 
body that the directing mind should be at liberty to con- 
sider general results. The bearing of a heavy weight 
requires strength and endurance, and one thus situated 
might seem quiescent, even while making great efforts to 
sustain the burden. Thus, though your progress in 
literature and science, or your class-teaching, may be 
chiefly intrusted to others, my own most important duty 
is that of helping to form your characters — to frame the 
different parts of education into one symmetrical and 
perfect edifice, founded on truth and virtue, and per- 
fected according to the best models of Christian excel- 
lence. 

Time has flown on rapid wings since a pilgrim band 
came hither with faith and hope to cheer their lonely 
steps. And have we not been rewarded by the smiles of 
heaven upon our labors ? That you are all here, repre- 
senting the fairest portions of our great country, from 
East and West, and from Nortla and South, is the living 
answer. Devout faith has been more than realized, and 
the most sanguine hope exceeded. What shooting forth 
of the tendrils of affection has not this "garden of im- 
mortal plants " witnessed ? Many of our beautiful flowers 
have been removed to their native homes, and some have 
been taken to celestial regions. But love is not lost, it 
exists on earth, however distant may be the hearts in 



]S"ew Associations. 233 

which it has taken root ; and in Heaven it is strengthened 
and purified. 

The atmosphere of a home-school is favorable for the 
development of tender emotions. The young girl who 
leaves her home to come among strangers, meets with 
others under like circumstances, and sympathy soon be- 
comes a strong bond of union ; new ties are gradually 
formed — the warm love of newly-found sisters, and the 
kind regards of those who have assumed the parental 
office, fill the void in the heart, and give the conscious 
happiness of a new home, enriched by many new and 
delightful associations — not taking away any of the love 
for the old home, but suggesting much that is hereafter 
to make that home more perfect and happy. 

Those who were affectionate, amiable and obedient in 
the domestic circle at home, brought hither the same 
good qualities, and in their new relations exhibited the 
same dispositions which heretofore made them lovely or 
otherwise. Change of place does not alter the heart ; 
one does not part with bad habits and feelings on leaving 
one place and going into a new scene ; though from the 
restlessness and desire of changes we often see manifested, 
it would seem as if many deemed that in new scenes they 
should be different persons ; that in another place the 
" Ethiopian would change his skin and the leopard hig 
spots." 

Neither when we leave this state of existence, and our 
souls wing their way to the world of spirits, shall we be 
essentially different from what we now are ; we shall be 



234: PIOURS WITH MT PuPILS. 

placed ID a new situation, with new associates, and with 
new and enlarged faculties, but our minds will retain 
their identity. It is supposed by some who have dared 
to speculate upon the condition of the disembodied spirit, 
that it will resemble in its lineaments and appearance the 
body to which it has been united, but freed from its 
grossness and materiality ; and that, purified from all 
earthly stains, it will exist a glorious and spiritual body, 
but yet bearing the stamp and semblance of the terres- 
trial body. 

The disposition of the mind is now apparent, in a 
greater or less degree, in each individual ; and character 
is, in some measure, read in the countenance ; hereafter, 
when the spirit shall no longer be concealed by an earthly 
covering, we shall doubtless appear without any disguise ; 
here we see, and are seen " through a glass darkly," then 
shall we " know even as w^e are known." 

How fearful are such reflections to those who pretend 
to be what they are not ; who endeavor to conceal their 
real characters and motives ! We must believe such 
will hereafter appear in their true characters ; that their 
thoughts and emotions will shape their spiritual forms ; 
and that their proper place and associates in the world 
of spirits will need no other designation than will be given 
by their own external appearance. 

The virtuous are often misunderstood in this w^orld ; 
their good, perhaps, evil spoken of ; and bad motives at- 
tributed to those whose intentions are too pure and noble 
to be understood by the sordid and selfish — the path of 



All Eight at Last. 285 

the good may be overshadowed by suspicion and jealousy; 
they may meet with ill-will and unkindness where they 
had most reason to expect love and gratitude. When 
such are oppressed with a sense of injustice, and anxious 
that their motives may be known, and themselves vindi- 
cated from the charge of what they detest and abhor, 
how consoling the thought that the time will come when 
all these misunderstandings will be rectified! In such re- 
flections upon a future state, we have the strongest in- 
ducements to seek to be truly just and upright in heart, 
so that our souls may be fitted to appear before the just 
made perfect, before angels, and before the Great Father 
of our spirits. 

1849. 



ADDRESS XXV. 

To THE Graduating Class : 

My dear Pupils : It becomes both my painful 
duty to address you for the last time as members of this 
iastitution, and my pleasant office to announce to you 
your honorable discharge from school-duties and the 
restraints of scholastic life. The object you have so long 
had in view is attained ; and you will now leave this 
place of your education, having passed through its course 
of studies, and with its highest testimonials. You may 
sometimes have been tempted to pause in your course — 
indulgent parents, fearful of your tiring in the race, have 
perhaps left you to choose between the enjoyments . of 
home and the privations of school. The temptation was 
great, but you overcame it, and have purchased the gra- 
tification which ever follows the sacrifice of inclination to 
the dictates of reason and duty. 

Your minds have become more matured and better dis- 
ciphned by habits of research, your characters more 
formed, and strengthened, by the practice of self-denial, 
and you are in consequence better prepared to enter upon 
the duties and trials of life. 

In the seclusion of these classic shades, no less health- 
ful to the moral than to the physical constitution, you 

236 



To THE Graduating Class. 237 

have been carefully guarded from evil influences ; and 
now, with unclouded brows and firm steps, looking to 
lieaven for its blessings and guidance, you go forth to 
assume the responsibilities of woman's mission. 

You are about to enter upon new scenes, while those 
who have so carefully watched over, guided and guarded 
you, will not be near to encourage you in goodness, or to 
avert from your pathway temptation and danger. Dearer 
friends in their caresses and indulgences may not weigh 
consequences, as those have done whose calmer reason 
discerned in the minute germ, the poisonous flower or 
bitter fruit. Does the father, when delighting to indulge 
his daughter in all her fancies — perhaps smiling even at 
her caprices, and regarding her as lovely in whatever 
mood she may chance to fall — does this fond father con- 
sider the relation that these caprices may bear to the 
future woman ? Does he think by what a different stand- 
ard than his own the character of his daughter may he 
estimated by a husband ? The latter may dislike extra- 
vagance ; he may regard caprice and childishness as 
studied methods to obtain power over him — as attempts 
to govern him by affected weaknesses. Children, too, are 
severe in their judgments upon parents. They are quick 
to detect the slightest weakness or defect in a mother, 
whom they will not revere if she be not self-denying, 
exemplary, and free from all reproach. 

Inasmuch then as pupils and daughters become wives 
and mothers, those who have the forming of their minds 
and characters cannot be too assiduous to train them for 



238 Hours with my Pupils. 

future dignity and usefulness in those relations. But 
should Providence decree to the young lady a single life, 
so that it shall be her lot to walk alone through its vicis- 
situdes, surely she will require all the strength of mind, 
firmness of purpose, and dignity of character, that the 
most judicious training can bestow. 

More than half your number, my daughters,* will enter 
upon life with no mother to watch over you. God has 
seen fit early to deprive you of that tender, sympathizing 
friend; and though a father's affection be richly bestowed 
upon each one of you, yet there will be many occasions in 
life, when that father will look to you for prudence and 
mature judgment, perhaps to fill the place in the family 
circle of your lost mother ; and there will be seasons 
when your hearts will yearn for sympathy, such as only a 
mother can feel — in such moments may you be led to seek 
for communion with the Father of your spirits I We 
trust you go hence, in some measure prepared to be the 
friends and comforters of those who have so long looked 
forward to your return to them as an event which would 
unite a broken family circle, and diffuse over it some of 
the cheerfulness of former happier years. 

What time can any of you, my daughters, have for 
the worthless frivolities of fashionable dissipation ? What 
peace of mind would you be willing to barter for a 
short-Kved admiration, even were it to gain the eclat or 
being called the belle of the season. 

It has been too common for writers, especially in the 

* The graduating class consisted of nine pupils. 



To THE Graduating Class. 239 

department of romance, to describe woman either as too 
sublimated or etherial for anj earthly toil or duty, or as 
divested of all that is attractive and fit only for the 
labors and materialities of common life. The manners 
and language of polite society are flattering to the young 
and attractive woman ; they tend to mislead her as to 
her trae position and real value, and after a short 
dream of power, she too often wakes to find herself — 
a slave. 

Alas, for woman's lot ! A being often gifted with lofty 
powers of intellect, and capable of high moral i3urpose, 
but possessing strong impulses, an excitable imagiuatioa, 
and capable of emotions which, left to act without 
restraint, carry her into the wildest excesses of passion — 
what shall check those impulses — what shall curb the 
vagaries of fancy, and keep this wandering star within a 
fixed orbit — what shall speak peace to the turbulent 
passions of her nature, and convert the dangerous ten- 
dencies of her soul to the best and noblest ends ? One 
power alone is able to produce such effects — the power 
of religion acting upon the heart and conscience. That 
power which led the pious Marys to follow the footsteps 
of their Redeemer, the last at his burial, and the first 
witnesses of his resurrection. 

Would we see what woman may become without reli- 
gion? Let us look at France — misguided, bleeding 
France ! We see in the streets a procession of women, 
clamoring for their rights, threatening to destroy pro- 
perty and lives, and not merely threatening, but perform- 



240 PIoDKS WITH MY PdPILS. 

ing horrid deeds of cruelty, with blasphemy upon their 
tongues and murder iu their hearts. The picture is too 
sickening, we would pass it by ; but let us dwell a mo- 
Tuent upon the causes which have led the women of a 
country boasting its refinement, to such degradation and 
wickedness. Fourteen years ago, Madame Louise Belloc, 
a great and good woman of France, in communications 
addressed to my sister, Mrs. Willard, and myself, deplored 
the progress in her beloved country of the doctrine of the 
St. Simonians, or Socialists; and especially that her own 
sex were among the first to be fascinated by them. 
With prophetic vision she foresaw the gloomy destruction 
of social ties which lay concealed in embryo, beneath 
specious principles of liberty, and a pretended desire for 
the amelioration of human society. 

French literature, since that period, has assumed a new 
phase. We will not even name one among the many 
works of genius which, have helped to sap the founda- 
tions of all moral distinctions, and subvert the institu- 
tions on which all that is valuable in human existence 
depends. When you hear of what the French women 
have dared to do, casting off the delicacy of their sex, 
and becoming rufiians and murderers, and all that is 
wicked and despicable, remember that these are the 
results of the principles to be found in the modern French 
novels, which fashionable American ladies allow to orna- 
ment their boudoirs, and with which young American 
girls do not hesitate to acknowledge themselves familiar. 

Any attempt to lay aside the restraints imposed upon 



To THE Graduating Class. 241 

our sex by time-honored custom and by the holy word of 
God, should be frowned upon by every virtuous woman. 
Our mission upon earth is to do good. As woman was 
first in tracsgression, she should be first in penitence and 
holiness of character. In the private scenes of life, its 
daily round of cares, duties and trials, woman's virtues 
should be preeminent. As the perfume of flowers and the 
rich juice of the grape are crushed out by pressure, so the 
sweetest qualities of woman's heart, the rarest excellen- 
ces of her character, are brought out by the heavy pres- 
sure of affliction I But why, it may be asked, speak to 
the young and light-hearted of sorrow ? Ask the faithful 
guide why he tells the traveller, in a perilous journey, of 
the difficulties he must encounter before reaching its ter- 
mination. 

Even this hour, so joyous to you in anticipation, so 
triumphant in its fulfillment of long-cherished hopes, is 
saddened by the sundering of ties closely entwined around 
the heart. But soon will the consciousness of time passed 
in this place be to you among the recollections of by-gone 
years, as " a dream when one awaketh." Thus will all 
earthly scenes successively fade into the dim twilight of 
the past, until that last scene shall come when each of us 
shall bid adieu to earth itself, and our disembodied spirits 
pass into the unseen and spiritual world — there, in a new 
school, to learn the mysteries of our own being and of 
God's providence. 



11 



PARTING HYMN. 

SUNG BY THE PUPILS AT THE COMMENCEMENT, AUGUST IST, 1849. 

God of the young ! Creator, Friend, 
To Thee in lowliness we bend ; 
Oh, hear us in this parting hour, 
Support us by Thy mighty power. 

God of the young ! In humble prayer 
Oh, let us seek Thy guardian care ; 
Our trust in Thee securely place, 
And rest devoutly on Thy grace. 

God of the young ! Our footsteps guide, 
Where flowery paths are open wide ; 
Keep us. Thy daughters, free from guile j 
Teach us to fear each tempting wile. 

God of the young ! To Thee alone, 
Our course in life is fuUy known ; 
Dark waters rise upon the sight, 
Thy presence only giveth light. 

God of the young ! Thou once on earth, 
A feeble child of human birth, 
Didst feel the ills of mortal life 
And meet temptation's awful strife. 
242 



Parting Hymn. 243 

God of the young ! "Who for us died, 
Oh, keep us ever near thy side ; 
In sorrow's hour be thou our stay, 
And bring us to thy perfect day. 



END OF THE FIRST SERIES. 



» fr- 



We have passed over a period of eight years, from the 
founding of the Patapsco Institute in 1841, to the close 
of the school-year in 1849, having selected from written 
addresses such as seemed least local in character, and 
most generally applicable to the young in school, at home, 
and in the various other circumstances of life. We have 
kept in view the wants of teachers, who may not have the 
leisure to prepare addresses on moral subjects, but con- 
scientiously consider that the literary instructions of their 
pupils, do not constitute their highest duty. We have 
remembered our debt of gratitude to those, who in years 
long passed, wrote books of instruction for the young ; — a 
debt incurred in youth, by the appropriation of the coun- 
sels in self-education, and in after years doubled by the 
aid received from them in the training of others committed 
to our charge. To discharge this debt to the rising genera- 
tion, and to those by whom they are to be educated, is 
the great object which induces me to bring from their 
dugty repositories the time-worn manuscripts in wliich are 

244 



Kepoet of Board of Trustees. 245 

embodied my instructions to my pupils, and my system of 
education. 

Note. — During the years 1847-8, instead of the weekly addresses, 
were occasionally read, in serial numbers, stories written for the 
pupils, among which was " Ida Norman," with some others, as yet 
unpublished. 



The following extract is from a report of the Board of Visitors of 1S49, among 
whom were the late Chancellor Johnson of Maryland, Kev. Dr, Atkinson (now 
Bishop of North Carolina), Hon. J. P, Kennedy, late Secretary of the Navy, with 
other distinguished gentlemen : 

The scheme of education which has come within the view of the 
Board of Examination, matured as it has been by the discriminat- 
ing and accomplished mind, and by the rare experience of the 
lady, Mks. Lincoln Phelps, who presides over the Institute, and 
not less effectively sustained by her talented coadjutors in every 
branch of instruction, would seem to leave nothing to b6 supplied 
for the increase of its value to the community. The studies of the 
Institute embrace within their scope an unusually large range of 
scholastic acquirement. They are drawn from the best sources, 
and are illustrated by authors of the most approved excellence. 
The course marked out for each class, seems to be singularly well 
adapted to the age aad progress of the pupil, and calculated to 
ensure the largest amount of instruction compatible with the con- 
dition of those to whom it is imparted. 

The moral discipline of the school not less favorably attracts the 
regard of the undersigned than the scholastic. The invaluable 
impressions of good precept and good example in forming the 
characters of the young, in teaching the decorum of life, its vir- 



24:6 Hours with my Pupils. 

tues, its charities and its courtesies, are duly and prominently 
brought within the social government of the Institute, and are 
inculcated with a success and efifect that are everywhere visible 
throughout the establishment. 

In closing their report, the committee are not willing to preter- 
mit the agreeable duty of renewing the expression of their testi- 
mony to the signal merits of the distinguished lady, whose reputa- 
tion no less than her judicious control, has given character to the 
Institute ; and the eminent deserts of that assiduous, skillful, and 
accomplished company of teachers and aids, who have so efTect- 
ively seconded her eiforts. Throughout a wide range of useful 
science and graceful art, everything appears to be well taught by 
those competent to the task. 



SECOND SERIES, 

Commencing with the School-year of 1 849—50, 
and closing July, 1856. 



ADDRESS I. 

WHAT SCHOOLS OUGHT TO BE AND WHAT SCHOLARS OUGHT 

TO BE. 

When we say there are in our country few literary in- 
stitutions for girls, you may be surprised at this asser- 
tion : almost every pupil, here, remembers that her parents 
were perplexed, among the multitude of schools, to decide 
where to send her to complete her academical education. 
There are, indeed, many fashionable, and popular schools 
for young ladies, but few, comparatiyely, that are so 
conducted as to secure the pupils the advantages of a 
thorough, practical, education, combined with good moral 
and religious influence. 

In some schools, much valuable time is spent in crochet- 
work, embroidery, the manufacture of toys and trifles ; 
and, in some, claiming to be of a higher order, the princi- 
pals do not even profess to understand the literary or 
scientific branches taught, but are satisfied with employ- 
ing teachers in these departments, of whose qualifications 
they are incapable of judging. 

What would be thought of the president of a college, or 
principal of a boys' school, who should be found ignorant 
of the different literary and scientific branches taught in 
the same ? 

11* 249 



250 Hours with my Pupils. 

There are schools for girls condacted by gentlemen of 
learning — these cannot be called superficial ; true, they 
are not liable to that objection, and they may present 
advantages for a thorough literary education ; but a 
gentleman may be very learned, and yet very ignorant of 
the associations which are most powerful in the female 
mind ; he may not, nay, he cannot know how to advise 
young girls on many points of importance connected with 
prudence or propriety of conduct; and there are subjects 
of interest connected with physical education on w^hich 
he could not speak to his pupils. 

The female mind possesses its specific characteristic 
traits, which women, themselves, best understand and ap- 
preciate ; they know the peculiar weaknesses of their 
sex, their course of thinking, their moral dangers, and 
the temptations which life presents. Women should, 
therefore, be prepared to act as educators of their own 
sex. For this purpose, they should, themselves, be edu- 
cated ; their reasoning and reflective faculties should be 
exercised, and their minds cultivated by study and sys- 
tematic training. They may thus become fitted to guide 
and educate the young, either as mothers or sisters at 
the home fire-side, as governesses in families, assistants in 
schools, or as principals of educational establishments for 
their own sex. We would not that women should be 
presidents of male colleges, but is it more absurd to sup- 
pose a lady presiding over an institution for young men 
than to imagine a gentleman as sole principal of a young 
ladies' school ? Associated with a lady of education and 



Domestic and Eeligious Training. 251 

dignity of manners, who is vested with authority to act as 
principal in such cases as more especially belong to the 
care and direction of girls, a gentleman may, with pro- 
priety, preside over their literary education. As re- 
gards the cares of business, and financial direction of a 
large establishment, we must admit that, in general, 
women are less competent managers than men. 

In the organization of this institution, it was designed 
as a place for literary education, in connection with such 
domestic and religious training as might fit the pupils for 
the peculiar duties of their sex in this life, and prepare 
them to act with reference to the world which lies beyond 
these earthly scenes. Yet we approve and encourage 
feminine pursuits — thus, we expect you, once a week, to as- 
semble with your work-boxes and materials for work, that 
you may be busy with your fingers while listening to the 
reading of select pieces or original compositions; but we 
also aim at a certain degree of thoroughness in the higher 
departments of learning. We do not think that girls 
must, of necessity, be superficial; and though they cannot 
become so learned in the classics and mathematics as 
college students, who devote most of their time to these 
studies, they can learn well as far as they go; and they 
can go as far as they have time consistently with the 
varied accomplishments which they are expected to 
acquire, as music, and perhaps drawing, with some 
knowledge of domestic affairs, of arranging their rooms 
neatly, a knowledge of plain sewing with the ability to 
execute some fancy-work — the latter has been found of 



252 HoDKS wrrn my Pupils. 

much use iu the fairs gotten up to build, or furnish 
churches, and even to found literary institutions for the 
education of young men. To sustain the reputation our 
Institute has acquired will demand the continued efforts of 
teachers and pupils. We profess to have a good and 
thorough system of education ; let us consider what this 
requires of us, that we may not fall below our own 
standard. 

Our standard of manners should be high. This forbids 
all that is low in speech or action, all that would be in- 
consistent with refinement and delicacy, all tricks and 
meannesses, v/hich some foolish girls consider as proofs of 
cleverness. What great errors do the young commit who 
make themselves buffoons for the amusement of others, or 
who seek to gain notoriety by daring to set aside proper 
restraints I 

It is not necessary to go to modern teachers of polite- 
ness and good manners to learn rules for behavior — the 
Holy Scriptures, on this subject, as in more important 
matters, contain ample directions, and if your minds 
could be thoroughly imbued with its teachings, so that 
they would enter your hearts and influence your lives, you 
would be perfect patterns of gentleness, simplicity, truth- 
fulness, politeness, and true Christian loveliness of charac- 
ter. The Bible teaches that we should in honor prefer 
others to ourselves, and that we should be kind and cour- 
teous, doing to others as we would they should do unto 
us. If such were the motives by which society was in- 
fluenced, how different would be its aspect from what we 



SuPEEFiciAL Knowledge. 253 

now see, where politeness is often a cloak for the most 
selfish and unworthy designs. 

"We profess to have a high literary standard, and 
whatever is taught, is expected to be thoroughly under- 
stood. In learning a language, you should enter into, and 
master difficulties — you should study independently, not 
looking to others to help you out of difficulties. You 
should think, reflect, compare, and examine, using your own 
judgment ; memory will then have something committed 
to her worth the keeping. If you try to learn by rote, 
without first understanding, poor memory will be sadly 
troubled to keep together a mere mass of words — but 
give her thoughts and ideas to take care of, that is, your 
own thoughts which you have carefully dug out of the 
mine of knowledge, and how will she brighten up, how 
tenaciously will she guard the treasure committed to her ! 
Without this hard study, this finding out for yourselves, 
your deficiencies will be apparent to all, and you cannot 
even deceive yourselves. When you study the conjuga- 
tion of a verb, or the declension of a noun or pronoun, 
you should so learn, that let any part be taken by itself, 
you can at once translate or recite it. The superficial 
scholar requires to be told how to begin, and then poor 
memory is dragged in to help out with the rest, and, like a 
parrot, goes on, ^' eram, eras, eraf/^ etc.; or ^'je parte, tu 
partes, il parte," etc. Now, this is not knowing, nor would 
a thousand years of such study make a scholar. We 
often observe -when younger pupils are called on to 
answer, simultaneously, questions upon their lessons, there 



254 Hours with my Pupils. 

will be some who watch others to catch their accents, and 
then, with an air of confidence, repeat what they have 
said, or are saying. Whatever you study, try to know, 
not merely for the day of your present lesson but for 
your whole life. 

After hearing a botanical lecture, you should pursue, in 
your own mind, a train of investigation ; think of the pe- 
culiarities of the plants examined, the principles to be 
applied to new cases, and make deductions for yourselves 
from facts stated. One pupil may merely remember that 
the teacher analyzed a blue or a red flower, that it had a 
long or short stem, large or small leaves; while another pupil 
has comprehended the laws of construction illustrated by 
particular plants ; she has exercised her powers of com- 
parison and generalization, has passed from the individ- 
ual to the species, from them she has made deductions as 
to natural affinities between this and other known plants, 
she has learned to perceive specific and generic characters, 
and having become acquainted with individual plants, to 
group them into their appropriate natural orders and 
classes, according to the laws of her own mind. Thus, 
by its generic characters she can recognize a Veronica, 
Viola or Orchis, though of a species before unknown to 
her. This recognition, indeed, requires practical ac- 
j,aaintance with plants. The attentive student, in the 
first stages of the study, learns the methods of analysis, 
and acquires a facility in finding out the names of plants, 
by examining their structure, and referring to her 
guide-books. These books will teach that this analysis 



Improving Time. 255 

is but the first step in the study of plants, and that 
the student should not rest at the threshold of this 
science. 

The subject of learning things thoroughly, in its appli- 
cation to different branches of education is too extensive 
to be followed out, at this time, but I would urge upon 
each of you its due consideration. If you have more 
studies than you can learn well, your burden should be 
lightened ; but first consider whether you do improve all 
your time allotted for study to the very best advantage, 
whether you are not indolent and listless, and do not let 
the hours slip by with little exertion ; whether you do 
not spend much time in getting ready to begin to do 
something, looking up books carelessly thrown down, or 
finding some one to help you to get your lessons — or, per- 
haps you have not yet learned the best way of pursuing 
your studies. Whatever you do, do it earnestly. 

Our standard of morals should be high — even above 
iuLcUectual eminence, should morality be placed. What 
is to become of our country, if schools for its future 
women are not pure fountains of morality ? What will 
be the character of future generations, if the mothers 
who are now being educated are not intelligent, virtuous 
women, who will be ready to sacrifice pleasure to duty, 
and set an example of strict and undeviating integrity to 
those whose characters will be committed to their forming 
hands ? 

Our standard of religious duty should be high. We 
profess to be a Christian school. The character and 



256 Hours wrrn my Pupils. 

teachings of the blessed Saviour, whose name we bear, 
should be our example and guide. We should study his 
character and teachings. In the History of His life, we 
observe first, His humility — ^His early years were spent in 
lowly circumstances, laboring with his hands for his daily 
subsistence. After he had become distinguished as a great 
teacher and benefactor, he was still simple in his habits, 
and chose for his associates and friends the poor and 
humble. 

The outward observances of religion are of little impor- 
tance, unless connected with the inward sentiment. Sup- 
pose a monarch possessed of the power of reading the 
hearts of his subjects, beholding among the crowd of 
courtiers, one in whom he sees indifference or enmity; 
he is scrupulous as to all the ceremonies of the court, 
bowing exactly as etiquette demands, gracefully present- 
ing himself before his sovereign in the most humble pos- 
ture, repeating with great correctness whatever the forms 
of court etiquette prescribe. — How would such a subject 
appear in the eyes of his master — would not his profes- 
sions be despised, and his real character odious ? God 
is this monarch ; he requires the homage of the heart, 
he desires of his creatures no " vain oblations " — out- 
ward observances are the mere circumstances in religious 
life, and should be so regarded. The " Sermon on the 
Mount," which contains the first public teachings of our 
blessed Saviour, may be considered as embodying the 
principles of his religion ; meekness of spirit, humility, 
desire for holiness, a merciful and forgiving temper, purity 



The Christian Graces. 257 

of heart and life, and willingness to suffer in a good cause 
— these are enumerated as Christian graces. While the 
peace-makers, those who are kind to the poor, and who 
are ready to forgive injuries, are pronounced blessed ; 
such as make hypocritical professions of great piety, or 
who think they " shall be heard for their much speaking," 
are condemned. 

We might enlarge upon the topic of what a school 
ought to be, and what pupils should be. But our subject 
spreads out in extent before us, and like everything in 
life, must be broken off. A broken shaft may well repre- 
sent the termination of human researches and human 
plans, which can never be completed, never finished — some- 
thing must be omitted, something wanting — and so our 
subject, so full and inexhaustible, must now be broken off. 

1860. 



ADDRESS II. 

LETTERS. 

Some persons excuse themselves from writing letters to 
their absent friends, because they have no news. What 
a frivolous reason I as if those who love others, and are 
interested in their welfare, would not prefer to know their 
thoughts and feelings, rather than to be informed of eve,nts 
in which they have little or no interest, or what is com- 
monly called news. 

What child can find it difficult to fill a letter to a 
parent, with warm, affectionate, and grateful sentiments I 
What child, on reviewing the past, cannot see in memo- 
ry's tablet, some records of disobedience, of conduct which 
has grieved a parent's heart ? and when sitting solitary, 
and looking into the chambers of thought, such sad im- 
ages arise, how sweet the privilege to address that injured 
parent in the language of penitence, even to magnify the 
past error, that the humiliation may be the greater. 

In writing a letter to your parents, my dear pupils, 
endeavor to prepare your mind for the duty, by some 
previous reflection; think whom you are to address, think 
of all the benefits they have bestowed upon you ; — before 
you could know them they watched over you ; when you 

258 



Duties to Pakekts. 259 

were helpless and feeble, they guarded you from harm, 
suSferiDg for your sakes many privations and anxieties 
such as none but parents can know. 

Think of the trouble you have since caused them by 
your wayward temper, your neglect of their advice, and 
disregard of their admonitions ; — and can you have no- 
thing to say to them about all this, when you are separated 
from them, and your consciences are awakened to feel 
that, in respect to them, you " have done the things you 
ought not to have done, and have left undone the things 
that you ought to have done ? " You can little realize 
how precious to the heart of a parent are letters from a 
child which express grateful sentiments, sorrow for past 
undutifulness or neglect, and the warm gushing of filial 
love. 

Your parents send you from home for your improve- 
ment. Their solicitude for you is great ; it may be that 
they were not well able to afford the expenses they are 
incuri'ing ; but they have said, '' the education of my 
child shall be my first object; I may soon be taken away 
from her, and she left alone to meet the troubles of life ; 
she will need a cultivated mind, under all circumstances ; 
to endow her with this gift every effort must be made." 
The days seem long to them which separate you ; but 
your letters are looked for, as messengers of happiness to 
cheer the family circle. 

Think then, what kind of letters you should write to 
your parents, and to others in the home circle. Will it be 
pleasing to them that you should dwell on every disa- 



260 Hours with my Pupils. 

greeiible circumstance, that you should murmur at priva- 
tions, or express your envy of those who are permitted to 
remain at home ? In short, would you follow them when 
absent, with those bad traits of character which troubled 
them when you were at home ? For who are, usually, the 
discontented at school ? Surely not the most affectionate 
daughters when at home ; but those who are restless in 
their dispositions, who love to find fault ; who, when with 
their parents, rendered them unhappy through their per- 
verseness of temper. 

The good and affectionate daughter leaves home for 
school determined to spend her time to the best advan- 
tage ; in proportion as she loves and respects her parents, 
she honors and confides in those whom they have chosen 
to direct her education. When she writes letters she tries 
to do it in such a manner as will gratify her parents in 
respect to her improvement. She has no need of news, 
to exaggerate inconveniences nor to manufacture false- 
hoods, for her heart is full of kind and loving thoughts, 
and words cannot be wanting where such exist. She is 
capable of gratitude, and appreciates the kindness of 
strangers ; all is seen by her in the reflective light of her 
own good nature. 

We will give you two specimens of letters written by 
school-girls to parents. Perhaps some of you knew Miss 
Snarl, who writes as follows : the sheet of paper is soiled 
and rumpled, the date appears -scribbled half-way down 
the page, so as to leave less space to be filled up. 



An Ungrateful Letter. 261 

"Unfeeling Parents : I would 'of written' before if 
I had any news, but shut up in this prison, we don't of 
course have any, so you can read the newspapers for that 
(I should not write now only I want you should send me 
some money). When we arrived at this mean village of 
EUicotts Mills, we were directed to get upon some rocks, 
and climb up a narrow passage ; in this way we pro- 
ceeded for some miles, I should think (though this may be 
exaggerated), but any how, it was the worst climbing I 
ever done, and we were nearly ten minutes in coming from 
the depot to this place. But one would be willing to 
make some exertion to get to that which is agreeable ; 
but all this fuss was to find a school, to be confined in like 
a prisoner. After we had groped our way along, ever so 
far, we came to a road that led up to the Institute. The 
Institute ! Yes, it is no doubt instituted for the torment 
of poor girls banished from everything that is pleasant. 
I really do not see what pleasure folks can take in such a 
life as they lead here. If they had any kindness of heart 
they would let us do as we choose, and not as they think 
best. But no, I do believe they love to torment us ; we 
must get up when a bell rings, we must be silent in study 
hours, we must descend to the mean employment of put- 
ting away, and even mending our own clothes ; and if we 
talk and laugh in our classes we get a mark. As to these 
marks which some dread so much, I don't care for them. 
I mean to do what I please ; but if you will only let me 
go home, I won't quarrel no more with Ned and Molly, 
and keep the house in disorder, I have eat up all my 



262 Hours with my Pupils. 

goodies. I am really hungry, and would like to live in our 
pantry for one week, and do nothing but eat. The fair 
here isnH hut tolerable! I am tired of eating candy so 
much. I have carried it about in my pocket till I am 
sick of it. The piano keys where I practise are always 
stuck up with the candy which my fingers leave on them, 
and I expect every day to hear a mark read for it ; but 
I say again, I don't care for marks. I have had my will 
at home, and I mean to have it here. We have been 
expecting to have some awful sickness, the scarlet fever, 
measles, small pox, or yellow fever ; but I do believe the 
poor girls are afraid to have anything which is not accord- 
ing to rule. 

" No more at present from your distressed and miser- 
able child, 

'' Growlinda Snarl." 

It is a relief to turn from this snarling epistle to one of 
a different character. You all know Miss Goodchild, and 
she writes as you would have expected. 

" My dear Parents : Though somewhat fatigued 
with my journey, I will not let a day pass without inform- 
ing you of my welfare. On reaching the romantic village 
of EUicotts-Mills, we were directed to the Institute by a 
winding- path which leads up a steep ascent ; but were 
amply rewarded for our labor, by the delightful prospect 
presented on every side. 

'' In my own mind I compared this with the pursuit of 



A Good Letter. 263 

knowledge before me. The way may be rough, I may 
have to pursue it alone, or unaccompanied by those whom 
I most love, but yet, great rewards will attend persever- 
ance in my journey. Yet, thought I, as panting for 
breath I ascended the lofty eminence leading to the In- 
stitute, 

" ' How hard it is to climb the steep, 

Where Fame's proud temple shines afar ! ' 

" Determined as I am to be happy, and to accomplish 
the objects for which you have, at so much expense and 
such sacrifice of your own feelings, sent me to school, I 
shall find no difficulty in controlling my thoughts and fix- 
ing them upon my studies. 

"If I am ever tempted to murmur at any duty, the 
thoughts of my dear parents, their anxiety that I may be 
found among the best pupils, and the idea that my dis- 
grace would be reflected upon them, shall stimulate me to 
renewed efforts ; — but indeed, our tasks, so far as I un- 
derstand what is required, are not hard, and I think there 
is, around us, everywhere, a disposition to render us 
happy, as well as every facility for improvement ; I shall 
write more fully soon. 

" Your affectionate daughter, 

"Agatha Goodchild." 

It is said that " while there is life there is hope ;" — 
Miss Growlinda has spirit — even her willfulness may be 
turned to good account ; and we should not wonder if 



264 HOUKS WITH. MY PuPILS. 

she becomes a favorite among us. We will be kind to her, 
and endeavor to teach her that there is something sweeter 
than candy — even the consciousness of becoming better 
and wiser. And we must be careful not to spoil little 
Agatha by praising her for being good, — " Let him tliat 
thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." 

1850. 



ADDRESS III. 

ON THE CHARACTER OF MISS MERCER, THE TEACHER, 
PHILANTHROPIST, AND CHRISTIAN. 

Few among you are unacquainted with the character 
of the late Miss Margaret Mercer, who for many years 
was the honored Principal of a female school in Virginia. 
It is well that those young persons who do not properly 
appreciate the claims to honor and respect of faithful and 
gifted instructors, should contemplate some one particular 
instance of devotedness and merit, that thus they may 
learn to place a different value upon those engaged in the 
noble work of education. 

Miss Mercer was nurtured in ease and affluence, but 
she declared in the midst of trials, and too often the 
ingratitude of those for whose benefit she labored, that 
she found more true enjoyment in the occupation of teach- 
ing, than she had ever done in all the pleasures and indul- 
gences of gay and fashionable life. The father of Miss 
Mercer was the intimate friend of Jefferson and Madison, 
and himself distinguished by the confidence of his fellow- 
citizens. He devoted much time to the education of his 
daughter ; to his instruction she ascribed her fondness for 
literature ; and to him she was, in a degree, indebted for 

12 265 



266 Hours with mt Pupils. 

a high tone of intellect and morals. Her biographer says 
of her, '' beautiful and accomplished, and occupying a high 
social position, she entered upon life with the brightest 
prospects before her, and for a time participated in the 
usual amusements of the circle in which she moved. But 
she very early learned the 'luxury of doing good,' and 
gave indications of that benevolent and self-sacrificing 
spirit which in after life shone so conspicuously in her life 
and character." In one of her lectures to her pupils, 
" On Patience," she relates an affecting story of the suf- 
ferings and resignation of a poor woman, on whom she 
personally attended ; thus incidentally disclosing her own 
benevolence and sympathy, even at an early, and too often 
thoughtless age. 

The religious character of Miss Mercer gradually 
unfolded itself in beautiful and attractive features. She, 
herself, spake in after life of a change of heart, which in 
her case had been the gradual development of a religious 
principle, the first unfoldings of which were scarcely per- 
ceptible. At the age of twenty-three, she writes to a 
cousin in Essex Co., Virginia, in answer to a letter refer- 
ring to the supposed amusements in which she was consid- 
ered as indulging. She informed her cousin that so far 
from being engaged in worldly pleasures, she had been for 
the last mouth waiting by the sick-bed of a beloved aunt, 
expecting that disease would forever remove her dearest 
and best friend. 

" Thank Heaven," she says, " I have hopes that the 
Almighty has heard my earnest prayer, and that a merci- 



Religious Chaeacter of Miss Meecek. 267 

ful Father will not withdraw this model of our imitation. 
Last night I had such a golden dream about going to 
Essex ! I do think if you had a church it would be a 
heavenly place. I could cry when I think there is no 
church for such dear good people to collect in, and offer 
their thanks to Heaven for being so blest. I was con- 
firmed, and had the pious blessing of our venerable old 
bishojD (Bishop Moore) the day before I came from home. 
You cannot think how humble, how penitent, and yet how 
happy I feel. It seems as though I still feel the pressure 
of his hand upon my head." 

" Such," says the biographer of Miss Mercer, " were the 
first dawnings of that spiritual life which was more and 
more developed until it shone bright and clear, to the 
glory of Him who had thus begun a good work in her, to 
be perfected only when after forty years' trial she was 
taken to the rest prepared for His people." 

There was a beauty in the mind of Miss Mercer which 
was singularly reflected in her person, at an early age ; 
but, in after life, when sickness had made its ravages upon 
her physical frame, she appeared decrepit, and her coun- 
tenance bore traces of suffering. But the mind triumphed 
over bodily infirmities, and waxed more and more lovely, 
as the external investments became less attractive. 

She had in early youth a just and refined taste in liter- 
ature, and though delighted with the beautiful in style, 
she was not forgetful to scan the sentiment as the ulti- 
mate criterion of literary merit. With such a standard 
in her mind, she condemned Byron ; while admiring his 



268 Hours with my Pupils. 

genius, she was disgusted with his infidelity and heartless- 
ness, and abhorred the malice which induced him to desire 
to infect others with the sentiments which rendered him so 
wretched and hopeless. 

Yet at this time Byron had not written his later works, 
which no female of delicacy would even wish to read, or 
have in her possession. And since we are upon this sub- 
ject, it may not be amiss to caution you respecting the 
indulgence of imagination in the perusal of improper books. 
Indelicate ideas may be expressed in smooth and poetical 
numbers, and the most corrupting sentiments may be con- 
veyed through the medium of beautiful language. Some, 
indeed much, of the poetry of Thomas Moore is of this 
character ; and when all his poems are brought together, 
it would be better never to read those which are unexcep- 
tionable in sentiment, than to attempt to pick out amidst 
the corrupting mass, the gems which may be imbedded 
therein. 

The letters of Miss Mercer to her cousin and young 
friend, even at an early period of her life, are beautiful 
specimens of pure and elevated composition. Her letters 
contain no vulgar phrases, no low conceits, or malicious 
slanders, no frivolous gossip or unmeaning tattle ; but 
they bespeak a mind elevated, earnestly seeking wisdom 
and knowledge, and desiring to make others wiser and 
better. 

We have not time to proceed with the circumstances 
which led the gifted and accomplished Margaret Mercer 
to devote her talents and life to the education of the 



Miss Merger's Loye of jSTature. 269 

young, which she did in the spirit of the most devoted 
self-sacrifice ; and yet, here, she found the element her 
soul sought after ; here she found that happiness which 
the world had never imparted. In the midst of her pupils 
she found the opportunity she so much desired of doing 
good. She loved to direct their thoughts to the great 
and good God through the medium of his works. She 
regarded the study of nature in its various forms, as tend- 
ing to refinement of taste, and especially as conducive 
to pious feelings. She loved flowers — to paint them from 
nature, and to study their botanical relations. She 
observed with wonder and awe the laws of attraction, 
magnetism and affinity, and made every lesson in science 
conducive to higher attainments in piety. 

Miss Mercer's great desire was the moral and religious 
improvement of her pupils; she watched over them w^ith 
a mother's solicitude, and grieved over the thoughtless 
and erring, even as a tender parent sorroweth over a 
wayward and unpromising child. She possessed in an 
eminent degree the love and confidence of her pupils ; 
those who sought improvement, knew how to value the 
advantages which, under her care, they enjoyed. But all 
her pupils did not appreciate her labors, her talents and 
high moral worth. Thoughtless and impatient if re- 
strained, or possessing bad traits of character which they 
wished to hide, some did not like the government which 
would control irregularities ; others feared a penetration 
into character which would reveal their secret faults ; to 
such young persons Miss Mercer was doubtless repulsive. 



270 Hours with my Pupils. 

To them she was only a diminutive woman of singular 
plainness of dress, and destitute of any attraction ; they 
did not like her. But to those who could appreciate her 
talents and worth, who could understand the beauties 
of her mind and heart, there was a perception in her pre- 
sence (as I have heard her pupils describe) of something 
ano-elic — a charm almost supernatural, which attracted to 
her. Some of her former pupils have been members of 
this institution ; I have delighted to listen to their de- 
scriptions of her. She was truly one of those noble edu- 
cators who adorned their profession and made it honor- 
able. The principal teacher * at Miss Mercer's school 
graduated (under my instruction) at Troy, N. Y., Semi- 
nary. She was privileged to be at the dying-bed of 
this interesting woman, and reports that her last words 
were, " It is sweet to depart and be with Jesus." 

May we live the life of the righteous, that our last end 
may be as theirs I 

* Miss Ingersoll of Massachusetts. 



ADDRESS IV. 

GOOD WORDS AND WORKS. 

Again we have arrived upon the confines of Christmas 
and New- Year, and many of you are eager for expected 
meetings with friends, and the pleasure of being released 
from school rules. 

Some of you, having been absent a few short months 
from home, are about to return thither again. It may be 
that those whose homes are too far distant to be reached 
in a few hours, feel sad that they must be deprived of the 
enjoyments connected with such visits. But in general it 
may be remarked, that pupils entirely separated from home 
influences and associations while at school, accomplish 
more than those who, by frequent visiting at home, return 
to old habits and associations, so that each time of com- 
ing again to school they are obliged to begin anew the 
work of improvement. 

It may be considered but a poor compliment to the 
home of a pupil to suppose that she will not, there, be 
trained up better than elsewhere ; yet, without any dis- 
respect to parents or home influences, it must be acknow- 
ledged that children do, at home, often acquire habits of 
idleness and self-indulgence which must be overcome to 
fit them for the duties of life ; and that when they return 

271 



272 Hours with my Pupils. 

to the accustomed scenes of former indulgence they 
naturally fall into the same routine of life and behavior. 

At home you like to indulge in sitting up late, and 
wasting your morning hours in bed ; you prefer to be 
waited on, rather than take useful exercise in doing things 
for yourself. You like to complain to your parents, be- 
cause they pity you, and seem to care more for you when 
you appeal to their sympathies. You like to eat irregu- 
larly of such things as suit your appetite, whether good 
for health or not. With servants you may be capricious ; 
with brothers and sisters, perhaps fretful and exacting, 
unwilling to make the exertions and sacrifices, yourself, 
which you demand of them. 

Now, the great advantage in going from home to 
school, is in breaking off all bad habits formed through 
the indulgence of parents too often blind to the faults of 
their children, or if seeing them, destitute of the resolu- 
tion to carry out effective plans for their reformation. 

Doctors are often unwilling to prescribe for their own 
families in sickness : they prefer trusting to the judgment 
of other physicians. Parents are, indeed, often the poor- 
est physicians for the moral ailments of their children; 
and so, it is well they should intrust them to others for a 
certain time at that period of life when bad habits must 
either be conquered, or become masters. 

Now, what are your moral complaints, the bad habits, 
the disagreeable ways, and unpleasant tempers which you 
should be cured of ; which have hitherto stood in the way 
of your own happiness, and that of your home fireside ? 



Pkactioal Duties. 273 

It is not likely there is one of you who has not some- 
thing to regret as to the past, some amendment to desire 
for the future. 

Those who are going home, will do well to consider how 
they ought to deport themselves. When one is going to 
any place, it is natural to form some plan beforehand as 
to how she intends to act, and to form some idea of the 
impression she will be likely to make upon others. Be- 
cause you are to meet parents, brothers and- sisters, should 
you be less careful about your conduct than if you were 
going among strangers ? 

You might say, " Our feelings will prompt us to act 
rightly. We love and honor our parents, and, of course, 
we shall be affectionate and obedient f but it is not of 
course that this will be so ; there are in the world a great 
many selfish, undutiful, hard-hearted children; and oflen 
when the indulgence is greatest on the side of the parent, 
there is most ingratitude on the part of the child. 

It is not by showing excess of feeling when you meet 
your parents, that you will manifest any essential improve- 
ment in your characters. You must think in what duties 
you have hitherto most failed, to what faults you have 
been most liable, and begin by doing those things that 
you know you should do, but have formerly neglected. 
Kise in good season in the morning, and dress yourselves 
neatly; look about and see what you can do to make home 
more cheerful. Shut doors carefully after you, in rooms 
which should be closed ; ask servants kindly for what you 
want. When they do things awkwardly, and you can 

12* 



2T4: PIOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

think of a better mode of doing the same, suggest this to 
them in a pleasant way. After servants have cleaned 
rooms, there is usually required the hand of taste and 
neatness to arrange things so as to give a pleasant, soci- 
able and refined look or coujp d'ail. 

Be attentive to little things : take your father's hat, 
cane or umbrella, if you meet him as he comes into the 
house : it is so pleasant to parents to see their children 
observant and thoughtful. Think what you can say or 
do to make home pleasant ; — exercise there, your accom- 
plishments if you have any ; if you can play or sing but 
tolerably well, do the best you can. You can all read ; 
try to find something in books or newspapers to suggest 
subjects for conversation, or read in the family circle such 
passages as you think might please. Do not be too 
anxious to go somewhere or have company: it is sad when 
families can find no happiness in each other. Above all, 
cultivate no intimacies, nor make any acquaintances, 
except as your parents approve ; nor invite company to 
your homes but with their knowledge and consent. 

Children may see faults in their parents. What shall 
they do in such cases ? It is hard to say — but a virtuous 
daughter of mature age, loving a parent above all earthly 
friends, might wisely suggest, with caution and tender- 
ness, thoughts tending to good. 

Suppose a father, worldly-minded, bent on gaining 
wealth at whatever cost of health and principle ; a pious 
daughter might speak of the vanity and uncertainty of 
riches, and allude to enduring treasures in another world. 



The Right Stopping-place. 275 

A mother, careful and troubled, like Martha of old, might, 
by a daughter's pious reflections, or a word spoken in 
season, be led to see her fault in being too careful about 
" much serving." 

There are tendencies to evil, even when pursuing what 
is proper and right in the conduct of life. It is not in 
human nature to stop just at the right point, but there is 
a tendency either to go beyond, or to stop short of the 
proper limit ; either of which is faulty. We can often 
see better what is right, in the case of others, than in our 
own. When moving onward, there is sometimes a diffi- 
culty in discovering the right stopping-place. 

A wise and pious young person may be a blessing and 
honor to her parents and her family. ■ Striving to do 
right, herself, she diffuses around her peace and happiness, 
so far as may be in her power. Brothers are made better 
by the influence and example of a good and judicious sis- 
ter — not one who sets herself up for a pattern, who 
would exalt herself and put down others ; but one who 
quietly moves on in her proper sphere, cheerful, attentive 
and obliging, refined and active in doing for the happiness 
of others. But how seldom we see in young girls good 
sense and sound judgment united with piety and consci- 
entiousness. Such things do exist, but where are they to 
to be found ? Not usually among the children of luxury 
who have never felt a necessity for exertion of any kind. 
Such may wish to act nobly, may have good aspirations, 
but how seldom can they conquer their fixed habits of 
indolence : putting off duties till a more convenient sea- 



276 Hours with my Pupils. 

son, they satisfy their consciences by feeling that they 
love goodness ; that they would like to be good, if it 
were not so much trouble. They have, what Lord Kaimes 
calls " the sympathetic emotion of virtue," which he 
proves, hardens the heart when felt without leading to 
action ; the mind becomes satisfied with itself, and 
regards the sympathy felt, as an equivalent for actions 
performed ; the wish to do right, as a substitute for hav- 
ing done so. At length, the sympathetic emotion of 
virtue may cease even to prompt to action. Look at the 
novel-reader pursuing with absorbing interest her tale of 
virtue and distress. She may let fall some tears of com- 
. miseration, and indignant at the oppressor, wish she could 
step forward to the relief of the heroine ; — yet she lies at 
ease stretched out upon her luxurious couch, or lounging 
in her cushioned rocking-chair, fancying herself good, 
because she has sympathized with virtue in distress. 
Perhaps she calls a servant to hand her a glass of 
water, or perform some service, which she might better 
have done for herself, and the servant, it may be, is sick, 
and with evident feebleness performs what is required of 
her ; how does our sympathizing novel-reader act ? She 
probably takes little or no notice of the languid air, or 
feeble step of her attendant ; but fretfully complains that 
she had has to wait, and wishes she might be better 
served. Perhaps she hears of a case of sickness or dis- 
tress in her neighborhood or among her friends, but she 
thinks not of offering to assist by her exertions ; she feels 
far less sympathy with actual suffering near her, than 



Sentimental Yietue. 277 

with the imaginary actors of romance. Such is sentimen- 
tal virtue ! How poor and inoperative, how little to be 
admired or esteemed ! 

Behold the young woman who dreads not labor, whose 
step is quick and elastic, whose activity shows a desire to 
promote the happiness of those around her ; she lives not 
in a dreamy state of reverie, admiring the virtue she has 
not the strength to imitate ; not only on her tongue is the 
law of kindness, but her deeds are worthy effects of 
pnnciples of benevolence and love. 

Happy is that young person ; her course in life must 
be one of usefulness ; in her breast morbid and gloomy 
feelings find no place ; her time is employed in doing good 
to herself or others — or improving her mind by useful 
study, or in works of love and kindness. 

In the last chapter of Proverbs, the mother of king 
Lemuel describes a good woman ; this chapter is worthy 
of much study, for it is rich with instruction as to the 
good qualities of woman. First, it is said that " her hus- 
band hath not need of spoil," by which is to be under- 
stood that she is not wasteful or extravagant, but knows 
how to make the best of a little, by her prudence and 
good management. " She will do her husband good, and, 
not evil, all the days of her life." It is of a woman of 
good sense, industry and economy, only that this can be said. 

The good woman is said " to work willingly with her 
hands," not in fancy needle -work merely, but in providing 
clothing for her family, so that her husband appears with 
fine linen, when he sitteth in high places, or " with the 



278 Hours with my Pupils. 

elders at the gates." " Her household are not afraid of 
the snow," for they are warmly clad through the care 
and activity of this good mistress. She herself appears 
clad in beautiful garments by the labor of her own hands. 
Her conversation is seasoned with wisdom and discretion, 
and she studies to govern her conduct with judgment and 
prudence. 

Think, my dear pupils, of such a character ; strive to 
resemble it. When you see levity, indolence, extrava- 
gance and folly, pity but do not imitate. 

Those of you who are going from the Institute for a 
short time, should improve this pause io your scholastic 
life. Carry home with you activity, and hearts full of love 
and kindness to all. Pain not your friends by seeming 
reluctant to return to your school duties when the holi- 
days are past ; but rather surprise them by your zeal to 
press onward in your pursuit of knowledge : express your 
gratitude for advantages of education aiforded you, and 
your determination to make the best use of them. Gov- 
ern your tongues in respect to your school and school 
companions ; circulate no idle tales, which will tend more 
to your own disadvantage than to that of others ; but by 
excelling in mind, manners and morals, may you prove 
that you are not of those on whom instruction is thrown 
away. 

—1850. 



ADDRESS y. 



TO THE GRADUATES. 



Commencement, July 31, 1859, 
Young Ladies of the Graduating Class : You have, 
in successive years, beheld your seniors receive their last 
testimonials of approbation, and have wept to see them 
depart, sorrowing that they w^ere no longer to dvrell 
among us. Time has brought the hour when you, too, 
are to go, not for a short vacation, a season of recreation, 
to return again and resume your relations as pupils ; — 
but you go, to come back no more. You go, to take your 
places in the world, to act your parts in its busy scenes. 
But though there may be before you bright anticipations 
of a dawning future, you cannot, unmoved, sever the ties 
which bind you to this place, to those you leave behind, 
and to each other, as sisters and companions. Though 
sadly experienced in such scenes as this, when cherished 
daughters depart as they blossomed into loveliness, and 
their hold upon our affections had become strongest, it is 
not for us to regard this present scene unmoved. 

Your class is the largest which has graduated at this 
institution — many of you came here children, in person 
and character; you are now thoughtful, and serious-minded 
women — and though these traits of character may apply 

2T9 



280 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

more fully to some of you, than to others, yet that you now 
stand in your places on this occasion, is an evidence that 
each one of you has thought, and resolved, axid performed ; 
and we trust that the habit of thinking, resolving, and j^er- 
f arming, being in some degree formed, none of you will 
enter upon life unconscious of, and indifferent to its duties 
and obligations. 

At this time, especially, when the world is agitated by 
revolutions, and our own beloved country threatened with 
disunion and the horrors of domestic strife, woman has a 
high and holy mission to perform. May you, my beloved 
pupils, daughters of the North and of the South, seek in 
your respective homes to assuage the angry passions which 
would lead brother to contend with brother. Woman 
should he conservative ; on her depend, in a great measure, 
the destinies of nations, as well as of families. 

Go then, my daughters ; — with a parent's love, receive 
a parent's blessing ; — my prayer for you all shall be, that 
on earth you may accomplish your mission, as Christian 
women, so that, in Heaven, you may receive the Christian's 
reward. 



ADDRESS VI. 

BAD ADVISERS. 

" How blest is he who ne'er consents 
By ill advice to walk." 

When a fond parent parts with a beloved daughter, 
committing her to the care and influence of strangers, 
many fears suggest themselves as to the nature and effects 
of this influence. With the utmost prudence on the part 
of parents in selecting a school for their children, evils of 
a formidable character may arise where least expected. 
Thus, those who have the care of the young may be 
faithful, watchful and judicious ; their assistants may be 
in all respects competent to the discharge of their duties ; 
but, by chance, there may be among the flock gathered 
together from various climes and hom^, a few whose 
habits are evil, whose minds are contaminated by vicious 
thoughts and feelings, and whose example and advice 
would be injurious. The stranger, in a moment of 
sad repinings for home and the dear friends she has left, 
meets in some private recess a pupil of this class, whose 
influence may counteract the good advice she received 
from her parents before leaving home, and the efforts and 

281 



282 Hours with my Pupils. 

care of those who now stand to her in the relation of 
parents. 

We will call the stranger, Lois (a name honored in 
Scripture), and the dangerous companion. Calypso, who 
was represented as the tempter of the young Telemachus. 

Our young friend Lois, having just parted from her 
parents, is very sad ; she thinks no one cares for her, 
everything is new and strange, new places and new faces, 
new duties, new employments, and new privations ! She per- 
ceives movements which she cannot account for ; bells are 
rung, and all change their places ; if it were not that they 
seem serious and busy, she might suppose they were playing 
at the old game of " Puss in a corner,''^ and running from 
place to place for the mere sake of change. The manner 
of pursuing studies, of reciting lessons, and of doing many 
other things is different from what she has been accus- 
tomed to ; — and she longs for the old familiar objects 
which are associated with her affections, and seem to be 
a part of her existence. Sad at heart, Lois sits down in 
a corner of her httle room, perhaps on her trunk, the only 
familiar object near her, the only possession in the wide 
world which she can claim as her own. In her despon- 
dency Calypso enters the room : she sits down by Lois 
and begins to talk with her. 

"And so you are left here alone, my dear ; it is really 
too bad that strangers should be so treated. I have 
been wanting to call and see you ever since you came, 
but Miss Crabapple kept me in her room after school to 
study over a lesson just because I did not know it ; for the 



The Temptek. 283 

truth is, I hate study, and am determined not to become 
as stupid as those who are called the good girls here ; 
such a dull set, you have no idea 1 But how long since 
you came — where do you live — have you been classed yet — 
what are you going to learn — how long are you obliged 
to stay — do you expect to have to be here in vacation ?" 
But we cannot repeat all the questions which, in rapid 
succession, are asked of the new scholar by Calypso. 

Lois, with tears, answers that her parents came with 
her, a^few hours since — that they have left her, and she 
is very unhappy, for she has never before been abroad to 
school, and she is afraid she shall find it difficult to do 
her duty now she is left to herself. 

"Left to yourself!'' says Calypso, " you will find quite 
enough to attend to you. You'll be watched closely 
enough, I can tell you ; but come, let us walk out, the 
walls have ears here, so that I cannot talk confidentially, 
and I wish to be your friend. It is a great thing to find 
a good friend when you come to a place like this, and I 
am sure I shall love you devotedly, you are so like one of 
my dearest friends, she has just such beautiful eyes as you 
have, and just such a sweet mouth." 

Lois, cheered by the voice of kindness and sympathy, 
and gratified by the soothing accents of flattery, wipes 
away her tears, and taking the arm of Calypso, is con- 
ducted by her to an arbor, overlooking a beautiful pros- 
pect of hills, valleys, and rivers, where, amidst the pictur- 
esque wildness of nature, the art and industry of man are 
conspicuous and add variety to the scene. 



284 IIOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

And here, where all should prompt to pure and ele- 
vated thoughts, does Calypso seek to poison the mind of 
the stranger, by infusing distrust, suspicion, and appre- 
hension of all around her, magnifying the privations she 
will suffer, and maligning the character and motives of 
those with whom she is to associate. 

A young girl approaches them, Calypso looks uneasy, 
she wishes not that she shall make acquaintance with the 
stranger, lest her own influence should be lessened. Eu- 
dosia is one whom Calypso particularly dislikes; often has 
she been heard to say, " 1 hate herP When asked why she 
hated one so good and gentle, the answer was " she sets her- 
self up to be a pattern, she is trying to court favor by seem- 
ing to be better than the rest of us girls, but it is all 
hypocrisy." 

" Then let me be a hypocrite," was the rejoinder of the 
well disposed, "if Eudosia is one ; if I could but imitate 
her virtues, I should be but too happy." 

Eudosia, with kindly interest in the stranger, addresses 
her in gentle tones. "We do not," says she, "wait for 
an iotroduction when a new sister comes among us ; we 
know, by our own past feelings, what it is to be a stranger 
in a strange place, and how sad are the first moments 
after a separation from our dear parents, and when we 
feel that we are left alone. But you will not, I am sure, 
be sad, long, here, for we are all so happy." 

Lois looked at Calypso, who had just said the pupils 
were all very unhappy, and wished themselves at home. 

Eudosia was a plain-looking girl, with little of the 



The False Accusek. 285 

fascination of manners which Caljpso possessed, and Lois 
thought she would prefer the latter for her friend, but 
she could not avoid thinking that Eudosia's remarks in- 
dicated a better heart than did the slanderous aspersions 
of Caljpso ; and she thought, too, that there was not in 
the manner of Eudosia any of that coldness and contempt 
with which Calypso had said the pupils treated strangers. 

Calypso, rising and taking the arm of the stranger 
pupil, said, in a low tone, " You had better not say any- 
thing to that girl, she is a spy and a tell-tale." 

Lois was astonished at such a charge ; the fine, open 
countenance and dignified though gentle demeanor of 
Eudosia certainly indicated no such traits of character. 
She began to fear that Calypso was not a safe friend ; 
she thought of the. lines which she had learned in her 
Sunday-school lessons, 

" How blest is lie who ne'er consents 
By ill advice to walk ;" 

and summoning more resolution than she had before ex- 
hibited, Lois said to Calypso, " I like the countenance of 
that young lady. I do not wish to entertain distrustful 
thoughts of those with whom I have come to live. I like 
her because she speaks well of others ;" and Lois, turning 
to Eudosia, said, to the astonishment of Calypso, 

"Is it customary for the young ladies of this school to 
ridicule strangers ?" 

" Certainly it is not a common custom," replied Eudo- 
sia ; "I have never seen it done except by a few, who are 



286 Hours with my Pupils. 

either ill-bred or unamiable. I assure you that when a 
new pupil comes, we are generally very desirous to make 
her happy, and to cause her to forget, as soon as possible, 
that she is among strangers." 

"But," said Lois, "is not a pupil here despised and 
neglected by teachers and pupils, unless she is of a rich, or 
distinguished family." 

"All the distinctions we recognize here,^' replied 
Eudosia, "are such as arise from superior talents or merit." 

" But you are kept under very strict rules, I suppose," 
remarked Lois. 

" We have no rules but such as are for our own good," 
was Eudosia's reply. 

Calypso could contain herself no longer : 

" This is very fine. Miss Eudosia, to try and get the 
new scholar to join your set, the ' doing good party.'' I 
suppose you consider yourselves as patterns, upholding, as 
you do, the teachers in their treatment of us. A mean- 
spirited set you are, with your servile obedience and hy- 
pocritical pretensions j but if Miss What-do-you-call-her 
prefers your friendship to mine she is welcome to enjoy it ; 
but she will find herself laughed at, and ridiculed, for 
there are some of us, here, who are determined not to be 
governed by tyrannical rules, nor influenced by those 
whom we consider our inferiors. 

As Lois, astonished, looked towards Calypso, her face 
flushed, her features distorted, and her frame trembling 
with auger, a perfect transfiguration appeared to have 
taken place ; all the charms she had at first seen in her 



The Choice. 287 

countenance had yanished, and ugliness had taken the 
place of beauty. 

Eudosia attempted to take the hand of Calypso, beg- 
ging her not to be angry, as she had no idea of offending 
her. 

" Why," she said, " should my answers to the questions 
of the new scholar so displease you ?" 

"Because," replied Calypso, "they were contrary to 
what I had told her, and you would make me out a liar." 

■' I am sorry," rejoined Eudosia, " that you. Calypso, 
should act so unworthily as to attempt to injure this 
stranger who has come among us. You would destroy 
her happiness, render her suspicious of those in whom she 
should confide, so that the objects for which she has been 
sent here would be defeated. I did not suppose you 
capable of such acts, but I should have said the same, even 
had I known what you had previously told her, for we 
should never be afraid to speak the truth." 

Lois had left Calypso's side, and taken the arm of Eu- 
dosia. She felt how narrow had been her escape from an 
intimacy with a false-hearted, unprincipled girl, and 
regarded Eudosia as providentially sent to be her deliv- 
erer from an ill-adviser. 

Calypso, with a sarcastic glance and sinister smile, 
walked away, and finding a pupil of congenial character, 
gave an exaggerated account of Eudosia's meanness in 
interfering between her and the stranger ; which account 
was whispered about among those who would listen to 
scandal. The rudeness of the stranger in repelling Calypso's 



288 HOUKS WITH MY PuriLs. 

attentions, was noised about, but no fuel being added 
to the fire, in the way of defence or complaint, it soon 
went out ; the good principles which had been carefully 
instilled into the mind of Lois by a pious mother, had 
saved her from the seductive influence of an ill-adviser. 
And often did she reflect on her narrow escape from a 
dangerous intimacy, treasuring up in mind the precious 
lines, which, like a friendly monitor, had whispered in her 
season of temptation — 

" How blessed is he who ne'er consents 
By ill advice to walk." 

, 1851. 



ADDRESS VII. 

*' MEDITATE UPON THESE THINGS." 

1 Timothy, iv. 15. 

To man alone, of all the beings who inhabit this earth, 
is given the power of contemplation. The flowers of the 
field are beautiful to the eje, they are lovely and frag- 
rant; but they do not meditate. We love flowers because 
they are attractive ; God has created them for us, and 
adapted them to give pleasure to our senses and imagi- 
nation ; some fulfill the objects of their being, when they 
look beautifully, and give out sweet odors ; others are 
made for usefal purposes — they are the gifts of a kind 
Providence; we should love and cherish them, and be very 
thankful to Him who so profusely scatters them in our 
pathway; but they cannot think, and therefore they are not 
accountable to their Creator, or to us who cultivate them. 

" Ye are of more value than many sparrows." Animals 
are higher in the scale of existence than plants ; the birds 
can sing ; how sweetly sound their notes at the early 
dawn — in the morning twilight, when Nature is awaking 
from nightly repose, the spirit of harmony seems to per- 
vade the groves and forests, the air itself is full of melody. 
Poets have loved to think that birds sing hymns to God, 



290 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

that " insects murmur his praise, and quadrupeds salute 
Him at the dawn of day," when they walk forth in His 
beautiful world — but this is poetry merely, it is not fact ; 
— the feathered songsters, by their music, may help to ex- 
cite devout aspirations in hearts which can meditate; but 
these musicians, themselves, know not God, they enjoy a 
mere animal existence. 

We can bless God for His great goodness in creating 
so much beauty, and harmony, and perfection — we can 
meditate upon Him, and His works — v/e can go forth in 
the freshness of morning, or in the pensive evening twi- 
light, and rejoice in all that we see around us, of the 
beautiful, the picturesque, and the sublime. How noble 
our faculties I How delightful should be the task of 
cultivating them, and of continually seeking to raise our- 
selves to the dignity of which our nature is capable. 

Education is designed to lead the young to habits of 
reflection. The study of arithmetic is not valuable merely 
because this science is necessary in the business of life, but 
for its effect on the mind, in leading it to reflect, to think, 
to reason ; so it is with the higher branches of mathe- 
matics, with grammar, languages, natural sciences, etc. — 
all conduce to that one great result, the cultivation of the 
reasoning and reflective powers. But there are medita- 
tions of a higher and holier nature than those connected 
with the intellect ; the thoughts and feelings of the soul 
directed to moral and religious subjects ; the study how 
we may best perform our duties in that station of life 
where God has placed us. The thought of moral oblige- 



Effects of Meditation upon Chaeactek. 291 

tion or duty is not, naturally, pleasing to human nature in 
its present imperfect state. 

The child loves sensual gratifications ; in him the ani- 
mal nature is predominant. The young girl begins to 
love admiration, and for a time this may be a ruling pas- 
sion. Alas I that with many, this passion is allowed in 
maturer years to engross the mind, leaving no room for 
nobler and better feelings. When such persons think, it 
is not in meditation upon subjects of an elevating nature. 
One whose mind is devoted to the world and its vain pur- 
suits, may meditate upon the flattery offered to her per- 
sonal charms, or may study how to set forth these attrac- 
tions to the best advantage. For the sake of appearance 
she may pay a decent respect to virtue and piety, but her 
own tastes and inclinations are opposed to the pursuits 
and meditations connected with an elevated course of 
moral conduct. 

The pupils collected here, come not merely to learn va- 
rious branches of education, and accomplishments for this 
world alone, but to be disciplined in mind and character 
with reference to the two worlds- which lie before them. 

Meditate on what you are, on your relations to those 
around you, to your Creator, and to a future life. Such 
meditations will give seriousness and earnestness to your 
characters ; they will moderate your love of admiration, 
and teach you to value above all else, the approbation of 
God and your own conscience ; they will impart to your 
minds serenity and peace ; they will raise you above the 
trifles of earth to that heaven of purity and love to which 



292 _ Hours with my Pupils. 

the good aspire. " Every saiut in Heaven," says the 
great Dr. Edwards, " is as a flower in the garden of God, 
and holy love is the fragrance and sweet odor that they 
all send forth, and with which they fill the bowers of that 
paradise above. Every soul there is as a note in some 
concert of delightful music, that sweetly harmonizes with 
every other note, and all together blend in the most rap- 
turous strains of praise to God." 

" Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman 
that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." Such are 
the words of inspiration — meditate upon them. . Do you 
care too much for favor, for praise, for human love — re- 
member that they are incapable of making you truly 
happy, for it is the approbation of conscience only which 
can give your soul peace. The persecuted good man feels 

" A peace above all earthly dignities ; 
A still and quiet conscience ;" 

while his oppressor cannot forget the All-Seeing Eye 
which beholds his actions. Milton, in his " Comus," 
beautifully expresses this thought : 

" He that has light within his own clear breast, 
May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day ; 
But he that bears a dark soul, and bad thoughts, 
Benighted walks, under the mid-day sun, 
Himself is his own dungeon." 

" I had a thousand times rather," said a young man, in 
writing to a parent, " be supposed in fault when innocent, 



Shame of Undeseeved Peaise. 293 

than to suffer the bitter shame of receiving nndeseryed 
praise." Much more we might say on the topic before us, 
but we forbear, at this time, for nature invites you forth to 
enjoy her loveliness, and it is not fitting that the young 
should be required to think too much, or too seriously. 
Go, then, and gather wild flowers, inhale the fresh breezes 
from our hundred hills, and watch the sylvan brooks in their 
meandering course. Forget lessons for a time — be thank- 
ful for all the blessings of your lot, and for the future leave 
all to your Father in Heaven. But yet should the serious 
tones of the address to which you have now listened, 
linger around your thoughts, softening youthful gladness 
into sober contemplation, we may hope your happiness 
will not be the less now, and that greater good may await 
you hereafter. So you see I cannot even advise you to go 
and amuse yourselves, without adding a word oi meditation. 

, 1851. 



ADDRESS YIII. 

to the graduating class. 

Young Ladies of the Graduating Class : 

The circlmg year again brings us to an anniversary 
of peculiar interest — a period to which you have looked 
forward with anxious solicitude. You stand here to re- 
ceive the meed of intellectual labor, and exemplary de- 
portment. This should be to you a proud and happy 
hour ; — nor should you fail to recognize the kindness of 
your Heavenly Father who has crowned His many gifts by 
bestowing on you the means and advantages of education. 
Human life, my dear pupils, is but a tissue of events, — 
scene follows scene in quick succession, until, at last, the 
drama closes, and the curtain fails. There was a day 
when each one of you came a stranger to this place, 
whither by Providence you were sent to receive instruc- 
tion, that you might be fitted for the future scenes of life. 
This present moment then seemed far distant, as you 
regarded the vista of the future, in your prospective 
" Temple of Time." But it is even now here, and the mo- 
ment arrives for you to depart — not strangers, as you 
came, but loving children, affectionate pupils, and fond 
sisters, to those whom you met as strangers. 

294 



Faults of the Female Chaeactek. 295 

Desiring that this scene may not be without its influ- 
ence on your future lives, permit me, ere you go, my be- 
loved daughters, to address to you a few parting words. 
You are now to take your places in society as women ; 
may you walk carefully along the straight and narrow 
road of virtue and piety, consulting in matters of worldly 
prudence those who have had experience in life, avoiding 
all peculiarity of conduct and manners, and refusing to 
sanction, by your presence or example, whatever is ojQTen- 
sive to propriety or principle. Seek rather to be useful 
than brilliant, to be loved and respected rather than to be 
envied or admired. Take no important steps involving 
your future happiness without the sanction of your parents 
or guardians ; trifle with no solemn obligations. While 
you are careful not to be yourselves deceived, beware of 
being found selfish deceivers of those who may intrust to 
you their happiness. May you be able to fill with pro- 
priety whatever station may be yours, neither despising 
nor neglecting the humblest duty, nor found deficient in 
the proper discharge of the highest. Whatever may be 
your allotments in life, receive your portions with cheerful 
submission to the will of the Great Dispenser of all, re- 
membering that even in this world virtue and piety have 
their reward, and that misery is the natural consequence 
of ill-doing. 

The great faults of the female character, and those 
which education often 'fails to check, are vanity, love of 
admiration, and of pleasure, faults which too often destroy 
domestic happiness, turning the energies of the mind to 



298 Hours with my Pdpils. - 

frivolous pursuits of dress and fashion, or the dangerous 
chase after exciting amusements, or associations that are 
often fatal to virtue and reputation. Let educated Christ- 
ian women frown on all writers, however gifted with 
genius, who, perverting their gifts of intellect seek to veil 
the deformity of vice, and who dare attempt to introduce 
into American society the dissolute manners of Europe — 
all who return from foreign travels to ridicule what they 
call our strict notions of propriety, and who would seek 
to familiarize us with scenes where vice, under the slight- 
est and most transparent disguise, appears in fascinating 
colors. Home ! this sacred word is even unknown in 
some of our modern, fashionable languages, which Ameri- 
can girls are sometimes taught while allowed to remain 
ignorant of the rudiments of their own. May you, my 
dear pupils, ever love your homes ; — bear thither all the 
treasures of knowledge and the accomplishments you have 
acquired ; seek to gladden those homes by cheerfulness, 
industry, and intelligence ; and let piety consecrate those 
sacred precincts v/here your affections may freely expand, 
and your energies be safely employed. 

Two short years since, -there stood one before me, as 
you now stand, beloved and esteemed by all : to her was 
unanimously assigned the honor of the farewell address to 
her class. We listened to the thrilling tones of her voice, 
saw her kindling eye and deeply glowing cheek, as she 
read her beautiful and touching allegory of " The Voyage 
of Life ;" and we could almost fancy her slight form that 
of an angelic spirit, even then, rising to its native skies. 



Maey Johnson's Farewell. 297 

She has gone — Mary Johnson* has passed from this 
earthly scene to those heavenly mansions to which her 
thoughts were often turned, and an entrance into which, 
as a humble disciple of her Saviour, she sought to secure. 

Listen to her last words, for they were the last she 
uttered in this place, which for years had been her home. 
" We are happy," said she, " my class-mates ; for go we 
not to gladden the household hearth, to minister to the 
happiness and comfort of beloved parents, and to hold 
communion sweet with those unto whom we are bound by 
the dearest ties of kindred ? The sorrow which we feel 
at parting with the loved guardians and companions of 
our scholastic life, is but the one bitter drop which must 
be mingled in every cup of earthly joy ; and this is all of 
which I would remind you. I would only say, remember 
the fleeting nature of earth's best gifts, and beg that ere 
we have left the calm and peaceful precincts of Patapsco's 
shades, and become surrounded by the perils of the un- 
certain and dangerous sea of life, we shall each resolve to 
steer our course in that direction which, we know, would 
be pointed out, could the guiding star be still allowed to 
hover over us. Let us go forth with the determination 
that the siren fashion shall never entangle us in plea- 
sure's bewildering maze, that we will not waste in her 
courts our heart's best affections, but that home and do- 
mestic peace shall be our watchword, and chief delight." 

Short was the time allowed our beloved young friend to 



* A (laughter of the late Chancellor Johnson, of Maryland. 

13* 



293 Hours with my Pupils. 

dwell in her pleasant home on earth. The summons came 
for her to go to her heavenly home ; and in the spirit of 
the closing words of her Valedictory Address, she expressed 
her willingness to depart ; — and we can readily imagine 
her, in her last earthly moments, saying to weeping friends, 
" Time has brought us to the very moment of our depar- 
ture, I can only say a single word, farewell ! — our chain 
of union has, link by link, been severing, 'tis now forever 
broken." 

Other memories of dear, departed ones crowd upon us 
— they will often come to you in hours of silence and soli- 
tude, and possibly in scenes of gaiety and pleasure, ad- 
monishing you of the uncertainty of human life. 

For a time after you leave this place, its associations 
will seem to fade in the excitement of new scenes, or 
amidst the attention and applause which may greet your 
entrance upon the stage of life ; — but, should you, too, 
not be called away in the flower of your days. Time will 
soon bear you to a period when trials or cares may come 
upon you ; then, in solitary and anxious hours, will the 
guides of your youth appear before you, with their serious 
counsels drawn from experience, and you will gladly re- 
ceive from faithful memory what, unconscious to your- 
selves in pleasure's hour, she had carefully treasured up. 

Education will not only be required for guidance in 
domestic and social life, but as American women, it should 
imbue you with an enlightened patriotism, such as may be 
of service to your country. The pages of history teach 
us the dangers of disunion in republics ; that nations, like 



^f> 



Patriotism a Duty of Woman. 299 

iDdividuals, may destroy each other by blindly yielding to 
the influence of passion, which refuses all compromise, 
which rushes onward regardless of consequences, and 
would bring destruction upon all that is most dear and 
sacred, rather than yield to the monitions of prudence, or 
the counsels of moderation. Misguided, indeed, is that 
individual, and terrible is the fate of that nation, thus 
blinded. We may seem to be wandering out of our 
sphere on this occasion, yet the circumstances of our 
country cannot be regarded with indifference by its women. 
It would be absurd to say to the passengers of a vessel in 
danger of shipwreck, that none but the commander and 
pilots need give themselves any concern ; — such as are too 
weak to labor, might be of service, by encouraging others 
to assist in extricating the ship from peril. So may you, 
my daughters, do something for your country by using the 
influence within your sphere, to allay the strife and con- 
tention which endanger its prosperity, honor, and the sta- 
bility of its government. If every American woman were 
at heart a patriot, and would frown indignantly upon all 
attempts to sunder the chain of Union which connects in 
one vast nation our States and Territories, soon would the 
voice of disunion cease to resound, hoarsely, through the 
land. Let patriotic women of the Northern and South- 
ern States seek to allay angry passion and bitter preju- 
dice, and to soothe the agitated spirit of fathers, hus- 
bands, and brothers ; this done, our country is safe, and 
intermeddling fanatics seeing their hopes disappointed 
will cease from their incendiary efforts. On this subject 



300 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

you may think little now, yet the time may come, when 
you will appreciate the vast importance of the duty I 
suggest. 

But I can no longer detain you from expectant friends ; 
with my parting blessing I would say, may you in youth 
remember, that '' favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain : 
but the woman that feareth the Lord she shall be praised;" 
thus in age may it be said of each of you, " many daugh- 
ters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." 

, 1851. 



ADDRESS IX. 

BOOKS. 

We have found it necessary to establish a censorship 
in respect to books. The influence of these silent com- 
panions is too great to be permitted without some advice 
or restraint. The young may not perceive the reason of 
this caution, and think themselves justified in evading 
rules, by smugghng in such books as are not among our 
authorized volumes. Yes, such things may be done — 
there is no situation in which a person cannot, if he 
choose, do himself an injury. The young can find 
improper books to read, and may manage to conceal 
them. They can talk with others on subjects which are 
unprofitable and corrupting. Is it wise to do so ? 

There may be cases when reasoning would be out of 
place ; as, for instance, in the case of a good old servant, 
whom his mistress was about to employ in something a 
little out of his usual routine of duty, and sought to 
convince him by the use of cogent arguments that she 
was not unreasonable in her request— old " Uncle Tom," 
began rubbing his forehead as if to quicken his reasoning 
faculties, and finally said, " Please, mistress, tell me just 
what you want me to do, and I'se satisfied to do it." 

301 



302 . PIODRS WITH MY PoPILS. 

The lady saw that lier servant was riglit, but making the 
best of the case, replied, " Yes, I know you always do as 
you are told, but I wish you should think that I do right 
as well as you." But it is proper that your reason should 
be appealed to ; it is not enough in education to require 
implicit obedience to rules, the young should be made to 
understand that such are designed for their own well- 
being. 

You have time for recreation and amusement — is it not 
your own to be spent as you choose ? You have books 
which have been given you, or purchased by yourselves — • 
should you not be allowed to spend your own time in read- 
ing your own books, or those borrowed of a friend ? 
Would it not seem tyrannical to interpose any power to 
prevent the exercise of free-will in this case ? You have 
perhaps heard of the child who said that his jack-knife 
was his own, and so were his fingers, and he had a right 
to cut them with his own knife if he chose to do so. 

But so obvious are the evils to the youug of reading 
improper books, that little argument may be needed to 
convince you all that, as your appointed guardians, we 
are in duty bound to examine your private libraries. 

An inundation of unprofitable reading has swept over 
us, and it has become necessary to clear away the literary 
rubbish found within our premises. So much trash is 
now published which is worse than useless, that the young, 
left to themselves, are in great danger from the evil influ- 
ence of the literature of the day. Booksellers must live 
by their business ; they cannot afford to publish that 



Danger from Improper Books. 303 

which will not sell ; therefore the question with them is 
not so much what will do most good, as what will be 
popular, and bring the greatest profit by rapid sales. 
'Not that a good man would publish a book which he con- 
sidered as decidedly immoral, but a bookseller might be 
tempted by the prospect of gain, to publish books of a 
doubtful tendency. - ^ 

Then there are books so sparklhig and lively, that they 
become favorites, before they are discovered to be worth- 
less in themselves as to sentiment or information. Their 
whole value consists in their style. A young person being 
asked how she liked the style of a book she was reading, 
answered, "I have not yet come to the style'^ — but the 
books we refer to are all style. Exclamations, dashes, 
interrogations and mysterious breaks, keep alive the atten- 
tion, and are, it may be, suggestive of something unex- 
pressed. A book is amusing, and it sells well ; the. writer 
becomes popular, and a new work by the same author is 
eagerly sought for by the mass of readers, who would be 
saved the trouble of thinking. 

Books are silent, and may be, dangerous companions, 
conveying through the medium of the eye a moral poison 
to the mind. As an illustration of this, I will tell you a 
true story. An unprincipled young man (and there are, 
alas, such in our world), artfully threw in the way of an 
innocent girl, a book of an immoral tendency. - Attracted 
ut first by curiosity, she began reading it. Day after 
day, did the seducer w'atch his victim ; he knew that the 
poison was doing its work in her mind, and go at-length 



304 Hours with my Pupils. 

lie triumphed by the help of that insidious ally, the bad 
book lying concealed in its secret hiding-place, unseen by 
all but her to whose once pure mind it proved as the 
destroying angel. 

We may better point out the books we do approve, 
than the trash we would condemn ; and this I have often 
done in private conversations with many of you who have 
asked my advice as to the furnishing of your libraries. 
There are writers whose names are a guaranty for good 
moral and religious influence ; no book of theirs is to be 
feared or suspected. There are unexceptionable books 
which it would not be well for you to have in your school 
libraries, because they would tend to draw away your 
thoughts from the pursuits which here demand your 
attention. One who possesses in a high degree the sus- 
ceptibility of ideal presence, cannot well break off in the 
midst of one of Scott's interesting novels, at a bell-call, 
and, with the reasoning powers in full exercise, enter upon 
the study of a dry lesson. Therefore we do not generally 
advise that novels should have place in your school libra- 
ries — yet there are some works of fiction written express- 
ly for the improvement of the young which we would not 
exclude. 

Some time since, an interesting pupil from a distance, 
was introduced ; with her travelling bag she held in her 
hand a book which attracted my attention — it was one of 
the forbidden class. You know me too well to think I 
would have spoken to the stranger unkindly ; but to a 
suggestion respecting the book, she said with perfect 



WoETELEss Books. 305 

simplicity, "it was given me by an acquaintance in the 

car, as I was passing through B , but I have not yet 

looked into it.'' Of course she was innocent of any offence. 
A young lady enters a steamer or railway car, and the 
vender of cheap literature comes round with his books — 
"Love at first sight," "The Mysterious Rag-Picker," 
"The Interesting Shoe-black," "The Robber's Bride," 
" The Neglected Wife's Lover," " The Happy Elopement," 
" Parental Tyranny," etc. Our young lady having in her 
purse some gold dollars or silver quarters, thinks it would 
be a charity to buy something of the poor fellow who 
seems so anxious to sell ; and she wants something to 
read, as papa or brother may be too much engrossed in his 
newspaper to notice'her, so she possesses herself of one of 
these choice volumes. On the table before me lies a pile 
of these contraband wares which have found their way up 
the " Hill of Science." Suppose we should call upon the 
owners, or readers, and inquire what good they have 
gained from their perusal — would not a blushing cheek 
and downcast eye be the eloquent reply ? You were 
disgusted with the "Mysterious Pag-Picker," and the 
low company to which she introduced you. The " Rob- 
ber's Bride" you found was no fit associate for a refined 
young lady — and the " Neglected Wife's Lover," though 
very handsome and interesting, proved himself a villain, 
and the wife a weak-minded woman, not deserving the 
respect and attention of her husband. As for " Parental 
Tyranny,"- you were ashamed of reading such stuff, and 
acknowledged to yourself that the love of parents is shown 



306 Hours with my Pupils. 

in care and needful restraint. " The Happy Elopement," 
did not, on the whole, seem so happy when you reflected 
on the loDg train of consequences which might follow 
such a misstep on the threshold of life. 

None of you have a word to say in favor of these 
worthless books — but we might name works that have 
found an entrance into good society, and whose authors 
have attained an ephemeral celebrity, which help to corrupt 
good taste and good morals. Genius, though it may 
give brilliancy to bad metal, cannot turn it to pure gold. 
There must be a high moral purpose in the heart accom- 
panying the products of the brain, to give the latter ster- 
ling value. 

But here are Byron's and Moore's works ; are they not 
found in all libraries ? Can the most fastidious find any 
fault with these standard works ? True, the genius of 
these poets has immortalized their names ; while the 
English language shall continue to be read or sung, will 
Childe Harold, Lalla Rookh, and the songs of Byron and 
Moore touch the finest chords of the soul. But we will 
not even name the licentious and corrupting writings of 
these poets, which render their complete works unfit for 
the library. Moore was ashamed of his earlier poems, and 
sought to destroy them, but they were too luscious a morsel 
for the depraved to give up, aud his repentance could not 
recall the poisoned arrows which his genius had winged. 

Byron, with fiendish malignity, seems to have excelled 
in his power of voluptuous imagery, and his unblushing 
effrontery in violating decency under the guise of refined 



MOOEE AND ByEON. 307 

language. Far better read the cheap novels whose 
coarseness of style is often an antidote to their bad morals, 
than sigh over the exceptionable writings of Moore and 
Byron. The latter hated human nature, he loved to 
represent it as bad, and to make it worse. He could 
soar high as an angel of light, but he chose rather to 
descend into regions of darkness, with fiends for his com- 
panions. So in social life ; he left its higher walks, its 
pure domestic enjoyments, to grovel in sensuality w4th the 
abandoned. So bad was his life, that his diary given by 
him to his friend Moore, to publish for the benefit of the 
latter, was by him condemned to the flames, as unfit for 
the public eye. There may be many men who would be 
ashamed to publish the daily record of their lives, but 
Byron was willing the world should know of his infamy, 
and that his friend Moore might for pecuniary profit have 
the benefit of it. 

Setting aside the immoral portions of Byron's writings, 
there is in all his works a tone of feeling, which has been 
found to act unhappily on the minds of others. An 
indifference to life, a recklessness of social obligations, 
and a want of all faith in a Superintending Providence ; 
therefore is the best of Byron's poetry to be perused 
with fear and caution. 

But here comes the immortal Shakspeare. Can there 
be any objection to his works ? Yes, the young should 
not read them unless selected, freed from the low and 
vulgar allusions which pervade many of his plays. 

It was said by one who well understood human nature, 



308 Hours with my Pupils. 

that curiosity had caused more women to swerve from 
virtue and innocence, than evil passions. There is a deep 
meaning in the history of the temptation and fall of the 
mother of the human race ; curiosity arid disobedience, 
then " brought death into the world, and all our woe." 

In examining the books before me which have been the 
companions of your private hours, I find many marked 
passages, indicating emotions of various kinds — sometimes 
sadness and melancholy, such as would not be expected 
from such bright and blooming young girls. Disappointed 
love, bitter experience of life and blighted hopes — impas- 
sioned sentiments seeking a safety-valve in " words that 
breathe, and thoughts that burn." Surely those who 
have yet scarcely passed life's threshold, should not require 
the relief of such out-pourings ; if the buds are thus 
blighted, what will be the ripened fruits ? 

But we are consoled by the thought that it is only 
while you are reading, that you have these fancies ; the 
first walk you take abroad, or the first romp with your 
companions, dissipates them, and your merry laughter 
does not sound like the wail of the disconsolate. 

Throw from you, my daughters, all books which afi'ect 
your minds unfavorably, or which crowd out good senti- 
ments and desirable knowledge. Select your reading no 
less carefully than you would your friends. And until 
your judgment is more mature, avail yourselves of the 
experience of those who are able and willing to advise 
you in the choice of books. 

1852. 



ADDRESS X. 
to the g r ad uating class. 

My dear Pupils : 

Though according to custom I address you as 
Pupils, I must not forget that the interesting relation we 
have so long borne to each other is dissolving with the 
passing hour. Some of you have been members of this 
institution for more than the usual Collegiate term of 
four years ; — the time which seemed so long in the per- 
spective of the distant future is, is even now, here — the 
last scene of your scholastic life is closing, and as a 
Class you will assemble iu this place no more. As there 
are hope and joy in the various opening scenes of Life's 
drama, there are regret and sadness in their termination. 
As a Class, I see you together in this place for the 
last time ; — there were others who thought to be with 
you on this occasion ; — five of them in God's Providence 
are now in distant States, engaged in transmitting to 
others the instructions here received. And there was 
one * who now belongs not to earth ; — ere the roses of 
spring had shed their perfume to the vernal breeze, she 

* Jane Singleton Garner. 

809 



310 Hours with my Pupils. 

had faded away ; — dust had returned to dust ; but " the 
germ of immortality," which iu the sight of her Creator 
constituted her identity, will be " safe with Him," until at 
the final resurrection that " which was sown in weaknes 
shall be raised in power," and the " corruptible shall put 
on incorruption." 

As the Class of 1852, your names will stand associated 
in the annals of the Institute. In reviewing those annals 
we find that Death, who " loves a shining mark," has 
taken from different Classes of Graduates some of their 
brightest ornaments-^the beautiful, the meek and gentle, 
the lovely in heart and life, and the trusting devoted 
Christian, have passed away from the things of earth. 
Clad in sable garments of widowhood, are others who, a 
few short years ago, went out from us full of joyous 
anticipations of the life on which they were entering ; 
they can now but too well understand why they were 
taught by the warnings of experience to look for trials in 
this state of probation. 

The Class of 1852 — what will be their future life, — 
their future history ? The oracle responds, " even as it 
hath happened to others, so will it be to them." Carry 
with you then to your distant homes in the valleys of the 
Connecticut and Mississippi, the Schuylkill and James 
Rivers, the shores of the Potomac and the banks of the 
Chesapeake, subdued thoughts and expectations as to 
future earthly good, — receive with thankfulness whatever 
happiness or prosperity may be yours, seek to be useful 
in your lives, whether they be long or short, and in the 



To THE Gkaduating Class. 311 

days of trial and sorrow, for such must come, meekly bow 
yourselves lu humble submission to the Providence of God. 
Thus feeling and thus acting, we shall all at last find 
ourselves united in the " land of the blest," where part- 
ings with beloved ones shall be no more : 

" Joys on high can never die, 

Though all below must fade." 
1852. 



ADDRESS XI. 

BEHAVIOR AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

The approach of Christmas and the Nevv Year renders 
it proper for me to direct your attention to some practi- 
cal considerations connected with this season of holidays. 
A large number of you are to return to your homes to 
spend a few days in the enjoyment of family reunions, and 
of the social affections, in that domestic circle, where your 
hearts most freely expand 

The affectionate, loving daughter thinks of the pleasure 
she can afford to those who have watched over her 
infancy arid childhood, and she revolves in her mind what 
she can do to promote their happiness. The self-loving 
daughter is thinking what new gratification her parents 
are to afford her, what advantage in respect to pleasure 
or presents she shall gain from the holidays. Look 
steadily into your hearts, my dear pupils, and decide 
impartially, to which of these classes you belong ; to that 
of the affectionate, disinterested daughters, or are you of 
those who care mostly for themselves, who love their 
parents chiefly as the dispensers of good things, and who 
repay their past kindness by exacting new favors. How 
disgusting is selfishness ! When witnessed in the domestic 

812 



Try to make Home happy. 313 

circle, how hideous I I once knew of a case where two 
sisters in a family of respectable condition, carried their 
selfish spirit to siich a point, that at the death of their 
mother, as she breathed her last, one sister locked the 
door against the other, that she might get possession of 
the gold-beads upon her mother's neck ! You start with 
terror at such an act, but the unconscious dead was not 
afflicted by it ; — a living parent grieves to witness selfish- 
ness in a child. Go, then, to your homes with loving 
hearts, not loving yourselves chiefly, but those who have 
done so much for you, to whom you owe obligations 
never to be cancelled. Think what you can do while there 
to make your homes happier — regard everything in its 
best light ; do not say " why do v/e not have things, so 
and so," or " as such and such persons do ;" do not begin 
to suggest your own wants, but make the best of every- 
thing. Should you find any one of the household feeble 
in health, or less happy in mind than you would wish, 
study how you may minister to the comfort, or promote 
the cheerfulness of that one. Even the placing of a foot- 
stool, or arranging a cushion or pillow by an affectionate 
daughter or sister, is as a sunbeam going warm to the 
heart. Your parents have many cares and anxieties 
which you cannot know ; they are often disquieted by 
causes not apparent to you, and with which they may not 
deem it expedient to trouble you. All that you can do to 
help them bear the evils of life is but little, and yet that 
little is powerful for encouragement ; parents are willing 
to toil and sufer for their children, and they are surely 

14 



314 HOUKS WITH MY PuPILS. 

excusable if sensitive with respect to the love and grati- 
tude of those for whom their own lives are devoted. 
Suppose those of you who are going to spend a few days 
with your parents should write down some resolutions by 
which you determine to regulate your conduct while at 
home ; they would be good, too, for other seasons. I will 
suggest to you an outline which you ca,n vary according 
to circumstances. 

''1st. To appear in the family circle, amiable and cheer- 
ful, and to be obliging and conciliating in manners. 

2d. To be active, and show that I have improved in 
habits of industry ; — seek occasions for being useful. • 

3d. To be careful of all that concerns myself, not to 
burden any one with the care of what belongs to me, as 
clothing, books, music, etc.; or to require to be reminded 
of my duties. 

4th. Observe all the family regulations ; not to be late, 
or irregular, at meals, family prayers, church, etc. 

6th. Be moderate in the indulgence of my appetite at 
table, and in abstaining from eating between meals, so 
that I may not injure my health by any excess or impru- 
dence. Never eat or drink anything which I believe to 
be injurious to my health. Let my friends see that I 
have improved in self-control. 

6th. To assume no superiority over others, because I 
may esteem myself wiser, more temperate, or more pious. 

tth. To keep myself perfectly neat in person and 
dress. 

8th. Not to annoy my parents by any demands for 



The Young Lady at Home. 315 

dress, money, etc., bat be grateful for whatever they may 
give me. 

9th. To think more of pleasing my parents, and of 
making the home-circle happy, than of going abroad 
or seeing company, 

10th. To avoid all impropriety of manners, to respect 
myself too much to encourage in young gentlemen the 
slightest famiharity, or to be guilty of any ajDproach to 
indiscretion — considering that a young girl who seeks to 
attract gentlemen around her, places herself in a danger- 
ous, and ofteuj doubtful position. Towards those who are 
relations, or particular friends of my family, to be polite 
and friendly, but in no case to induce contempt by appear- 
ing too forward or too fond of their society, 

11th. To attend to my religious duties while at home, 
with the same regularity as at school; — to value time, 
and to seek to spend it in the most profitable manner, by 
improving myself, or in doing good to others. 

12th. To comply cheerfully, as far as possible, with the 
wishes of my parents and friends — to sing or play when 
requested, without appearing obstinate, affected, or dis- 
obliging, by refusing ; to perform what I do with sim- 
plicity, without airs or affectation — to keep such control 
over myself that I may always act with dignity and self- 
possession. 

13th. To avoid idle gossip respecting my school, my 
teachers or companions, remembering that my school is 
my alma maUr, that I owe towards it that filial respect, 
which should cause me to feel indignant at those who 



316 Hours with my Pupils. 

would do aught to injure its good name; and that I should 
do all in my power to maintain its reputation and honor, 
considering that my own intelligence and good behavior 
will be my best recommendation of those who conduct my 
education. 

14th. And lastly — to consider myself at all times and 
places, accountable to God, for my thoughts, words and 
actions, and to seek to live in accordance with His com- 
mands." 

Some of you are going to visit, as invited, at the 
homes of your school companions. Many of the resolu- 
tions we have suggested might be properly adopted by 
such ; but there are others, which occur to me as peculiar 
to your relations, as guests. In accepting an invitation to 
visit, you incur certain obligations — one is to render your- 
selves agreeable to your entertainers ; to appear polite, 
affable and cheerful, that you may not become burden- 
some to them. Study how you may please and commend 
yourselves to the elder members of the family in which 
you visit ; listen with attention to their conversation, 
evincing modesty and respect; endeavor to learn all you 
can from those who are wiser and more experienced than 
yourselves — ask of them to treat you with candor, and to 
tell you of any faults which they may perceive in you — 
acknowledge that you need to be advised (there will be 
little danger of any -of you saying what is not true, by 
such confession). Try to make yourselves beloved by 
those with whom you are sojourning. When family 
affairs are brought forward in which you can have no con* 



Conduct as a ^isitok. 31t 

cern, show no idle curiosity to listen, or to pry into such 
matters, but withdraw from domestic consultations, when 
you perceive your presence might be dispensed with. 
Never- boast of what you have at home, or what you 
have been accustomed to, as if to make a contrast with 
the house, furniture or modes of living of your hosts. 
Families of high position often live plainly, and without 
ostentation, while the nouveau riche are often profuse and 
extravagant ; — and yet if you were visiting where there 
was elegance of style, and sumptuous living, it would be in 
very bad taste for you to make such a remark, or xice 
versa. But you should be no servile flatterers, nor seek 
to please by giving up your independence of thought or 
character. Artifice is easily seen through — ^it defeats 
itself. If your manners are affectionate and amiable 
because your feehngs are kind and friendly, this will be 
apparent to those who know anything of human nature; 
but if you merely put on sweet manners, the dissimulation 
will be apparent. 

When visiting a young lady friend, never do or say 
anything to tempt her to act contrary to the wishes of 
her parents. If you hear them express disapprobation 
of anything, as of a particular book, associating with 
certain individuals, of peculiar modes of dress, etc., be 
careful not to countenance your friend in opposing her 
parents, or disregarding their opinions. Xou should 
rather seek to influence her to be dutiful and respectful ; 
and should you see her, selfish, exacting, or indifferent, it 
would be right for you to take an opportunity, when 



318 Hours with my Pupils. 

alone with her, to express your surprise at her conduct, 
and your disapprobation of the same. Her parents, 
noticing that your influence is good with their daughter, 
would then feel happy to have you an inmate of the 
household — they would recommend you to her as a safe 
and worthy friend, and ever remember you with affection 
and esteem. You would be sorry to have any parent say 
of you to a daughter, ''I do not like your intimacy with 
that girl ; she is wanting in good principles, she is a dan- 
gerous friend ;" or, " she is weak and silly, she has no 
judgment, and her heart is as corrupt as her head is 
weak f or, '' your friend is a poor fanciful girl, with her 
head full of romance, and deficient in good sense — I 
would have you regard her rather for a warning than as 
an example, and discontinue your intimacy as soon as 
possible." 

Speaking of behavior abroad, let me give you some 
cautions ; — a mother, when her children are to go from 
home, advises them against such bad practices as she 
knows are sometimes seen in the young. In travelling, 
remember that you are observed by many — do not dis- 
grace yourselves, your family or your school, by rude, 
boisterous, or improper manners. Loud talking, laugh- 
ing, and calling each other's names, so as to attract atten- 
tion, should be avoided. Talking about your school to 
each other, while strangers are listeners, is not to be 
recommended on such occasions, even though you speak 
kindly. ■ 

The conduct of young ladies, particularly school-girls; 



Conduct in Travelling. 319 

iu railroad cars, steamboats and stage-coaches, is often 
imprudent, sometimes ridiculous. Last summer, in travel- 
ling, I sat near a young girl, pretty and well dressed, 
but disgusting by her vanity and frivolous conversation. 

She ran on talking to a young man (who seemed not 
to be more than a slight acquaintance) of the balls and 
parties she had been to at such a place, of the partners 
she had danced with, of such and such beaux whom she 
admired, of young ladies whom she did not think " at all 
pretty," and of her plans of amusement for the winter. 
As her companion seemed a weak young man (his strength 
like that of Sampson of old, appearing to consist chiefly in 
his hair), he seemed to listen attentively to this silly con- 
versation, and perhaps thought it well enough ; he might 
not himself have learned that life has any higher objects 
than visiting " the springs " or other places of recreation 
and amusement, or that a young lady has any more noble 
field of ambition than engaging the attention of brain- 
less fops. 

At public tables in hotels, boarding-houses, etc., young 
ladies should conduct with dignity and reserve. It is 
improper to talk and laugh loudly, to make remarks 
upon others ; a quiet, self-possessed manner always com- 
mands respect, A noisy party at a public place is always 
freely censured by the observers. 

A few words in respect to young gentlemen whom any 
of you may meet in your approaching absence from the 
Institute ; and the observation may apply to all young 
girls, at any other times, seasons, or places. 



820 PIOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

Do not seek to be followed by admirers — severe remarks 
will ever be made upon young ladies who throwing out 
their lures indiscriminately in quest of admiration, in- 
duce young men to follow in their train. A coquette will 
throw away true friendship and hazard reputation; to 
gratify her vanity. Or if a young girl be really so sus- 
ceptible that she bestows her affection without due cau- 
tion, she may become a dupe to the arts of the designing. 
The greatest weakness in the female character is, in 
general, that which appears in her relations with the 
other sex. It is right, at a suitable age, and under 
proper sanctions, to form an attachment which may result 
in the most intimate and holy relation. But young girls 
should beware of entertaining thoughts on this subject at 
too early a period of life, as false steps may be taken before 
the judgment is mature, and the character formed, which 
would lead to a life of disgrace or misery. Be cautious, 
dignified, and reserved in your manners towards young 
gentlemen — keep near to those whose care and duty it is 
to protect you, and fear being left too much to your own 
judgment. At church, remember that your professed 
object is to worship God, and permit not your eyes to 
wander about in quest of admiration from idle gazers ; 
when you leave the sanctuary do not encourage young 
men to accompany you home, as is too common a practice 
in cities. On the streets, at all times, behave with de- 
corum. While you treat gentlemen of your acquaintance 
with civility, let it be with that dignified politeness which 
will repel familiarity, and prevent their joining you when 



Behavior towards Gentlemen. 321 

not desirable. A Tolume might be written on this topic, 
but I will conclude by one remark, — that if the principles 
be good, and the heart pure, you will scarcely fail to 
conduct with propriety. 

1853. 



14* 



ADDRESS XII . 
to the graduatixg class of 1853. 

Young Ladies of the Graduating Class : 

For the last time I address you as pupils — The 
interesting relation which for a long course of years has 
existed between us, must now cease forever. There 
remains but for me to say a few parting words, and you 
will go hence, bidding a last adieu to your adopted home, 
and to those who have stood to you in the place of 
parent and sisters. 

I would not move your minds to sadness, nor that tears 
should be called forth by unnecessary appeals to your ten- 
der emotions. This is no tahleau vivant, nor scenic repre- 
sentation, gotten up for effect. No, it is a living reality, 
a real and final separation between those who have long 
held in respect to each other, intimate and sacred rela- 
tions. 

The most unreflecting girl, she who may have com- 
plained of the wearisomeness of her school years, and 
often, and often, wished they were over, approaches not 
this period without at least a touch of sadness, a mourn- 
ful sentiment at the thouo-ht that her school life has 



To THE Graduating Class of 1853. 323 

drawn to its close ; that the time allotted for exclusive 
attention to the improvement of her mind has run out, 
and that her accustomed places will know her no more. 
Those of deeper feelings experience emotions which 
words cannot express — they look back upon the tranquil 
past, with its hallowed friendships, and associations, and 
forward, to the uncertain future ; — they shudder at the 
mysteries of life before them, and vainly wish they might 
ever remain in happy, irresponsible, childhood. Children, 
were some of you brought to this place — one, an only 
child, by her only parent who has not lived to behold 
this hour so fondly anticipated, and which would have 
restored to him a cultivated woman in the place of the 
little girl he left among us. 

Children, some of you came here to be watched over 
in sickness and in health, to be borne with in your way- 
wardness, to be instructed in learning, to be trained in 
the ways of virtue and piety, fitted to act your part in 
life as woman, and for a higher and nobler state of exis- 
tence. Often our task may have seemed but imperfectly 
performed ; an overwhelming sense of its magnitude, 
compared with our ability, may have weighed down onr 
spirits; but time waited not for us, nor for you ; — quickly, 
oh, quickly has it flown, and the children have become 
women ; — such as they are, they must go forth to act 
their part for the short period of human existence. 

Have you thought, and decided, upon the parts you are 
to perform in the drama of life before you ? Your par- 
ticular stations, whether high or low — the accompani- 



324 HouKS WITH MY Pupils. 

ments which may surround you, God alone knoweth ; but 
if your education have been successfully conducted, if we 
have done our part, and you have done yours — you will 
be the same, essentially, in all conditions of life — in pros- 
perity and honor, you will not be proud and high-minded ; 
in adversity, you will not be, abjectly, cast down. 
Eespecting yourselves under all circumstances, you will 
command the respect of others for what you are intrinsi- 
cally, not for those adventitious advantages which do not 
ennoble the soul, nor, when wanting, affect its true dig- 
nity. . If you have well profited by education, you will be 
wise, intelligent, and good women, seeking to apply your 
talents and acquirements to the promotion of the happi- 
ness and well-being of those with whom you may be con- 
nected. You will have no sympathy with women who 
would cast oif female delicacy, by invading the peculiar 
province of the other sex. May the dioties of woman be 
your study ; the liberality of man, designed by God as 
her protector and defender, is taking care of her rights ; 
true it is that woman is dependent — fanaticism may call 
her the slave of man ; but what the Almighty has 
created her, that she is, with all her physical weakness, 
her nervous excitability, and her desire of loving, and of 
being loved. The lot of woman she may not escape 
from, without doing violence to her better nature, and 
the immutable laws of her Creator. There is, in the 
lives of most women, a period in which they seem called 
upon to exercise only the feminine virtues, to love, to be 
lovec^, and to confide in a chosen protector ; — -too happy 



To THE GEADUATma Class of 1853. 325 

such a lot to be long continued ; but soon sterner quali- 
ties must be developed ; and the trying scenes of woman's 
life do not usually fail to test her forbearance, prudence, 
and her power of enduring, not only physical suffering, 
but a V70unded spirit, conscious, perhaps, of injustice. 
So opposite are the situations of woman at various 
periods of her life I Education should provide for all ; — 
when gentle breezes of affection and kindness waft her 
onwards, she should be grateful and happy; but she 
should possess the ability to encounter the storms of life, 
and strength, and firmness of character to sustain her 
amidst rough waters, and stormy tempests. 

If you have in the progress of your education, acquired 
strength of mind and firmness of purpose, we trust you 
will never abuse these gifts by attempts to go beyond the 
proper sphere of women, but the rather in judiciously 
fulfilling the duties of life in that sphere in which it may 
please God to place yon. 

But if some among you, endowed by nature with 
genius, and improved by a cultivated taste, shall be able 
to wield " the pen of a ready writer," so that you may 
hereafter be known in the literature of your country, 
may you be more conscientious as to moral effects, than 
ambitious of popularity. If celebrity and distinction, as 
the result of well directed talents, should be yours ; may 
you enjoy them as 'the just reward of labor, and conse- 
crate your influence to high and noble purposes. 

Society is in an agitated state, and. never was there 
such need as now, of wise and good women to exert their 



326 Hours with my Pupils. 

influence in calming the agitations which exist, and in 
bringing order out of confusion. Beware of listening to 
the popular delusions of the day, in any form whatever ; 
walk carefully, on, guarded by science, and guided by 
religion. When the time shall come for God to give us a 
new revelation, we shall all know it — the evidence will be 
clear and full. Till then listen to no insane ravings of 
pretended or supposed spiritual influences. Even should 
appearances confound you, believe not that the established 
laws of nature will be changed, except for some great 
and good object ; and what you cannot understand, and 
revealed religion does not call on you to believe, cast 
aside as vain and unprofitable speculation. The Almighty 
can never want man's help in the manifestations of His 
will, or if He do require it, this, He will, clearly, and 
fully reveal. 

You stand before me no longer children, time has 
matured your persons and minds ; — your regular scho- 
lastic life is now to end ; — yet the work of improvement 
should cease but with your life, and then in worlds of 
bliss, improvement will rapidly advance — the capacity of 
the human mind is infinite — it is unlimited I We must 
now part, you go to your parents, all but one * of your 
number, who remains with her widowed mother. May 
you, all, long live to bless the hearts of those who love 
you, and when the time shall come for us to leave these 
earthly scenes, may we go to dwell in celestial man- 
sions with a Father in Heaven. 

* The youngest daughter of the author Myra Lincoln Phelps. 



ADDRESS XIII. 

REFLECTION. 

Coleridge, says, *' Rejied on your own thoughts, actions 
and circu7nstances, and especially the words you use, and 
hear used." 

How often do young persons say, in a self satisfied 
manner, as if this were a complete vindication of bad con- 
duct, " 1 did not intend any harm, I did not think it was 
wrong f — but this not thinking is a great sin. Are you, 
all, in the habit of reflecting upon your thoughts — what 
kind of thoughts do you have ? The most thoughtless 
must sometimes think, and the character of their own 
minds must come up in review before them. You are 
sometimes alone ; at night you may lie awake, and then 
comes to you a solemn sense of your being God's creature, 
accountable to Him for the improvement of the time and 
advantages he gives you. What kind of a soul appears 
before you, do you like its companionship, is it a good 
soul ? If so, a sweet perfume of virtue and innocence 
will linger around it, a consciousness of good thoughts 
and good actions will give it a pleasant and tranquil 
aspect ; though you may be in bodily pain or in affliction, 
such a reflected image of your own soul will make you 

82T 



328 HouES WITH MY Pupils. 

comparatively happy. But if you see a bad spirit, and 
know it is your own bad soul, come to show you its 
deformity, how will you 'try to turn away from its con- 
templation ; — ^but it will not leave you, it will virtually 
say, '' am I not your own soul, which you have neglected, 
suffered to grow deformed and disgusting? for what I am, 
you are accountable, you cannot rid yourself of me ; con- 
science will ever be holding up the mirror in which you 
now see me, you cannot turn from this spectre — it is your- 
self. 

There are times when all must think ; conscience 
speaks when all else is silent. Silence and solitude are 
solemn monitors. But there are, we fear, some whose 

. thoughts are so habitually evil, whose minds are so filled 
with vain and foolish, not to say impure imaginations, in 
whom the mirror of conscience is so clouded, that they 
cannot even feel remorse, cannot see by reflection, their 
own bad souls. 

You who are before me are all young, and it would be 
hard to believe that you have yet lost the power of reflec- 
tion ; but if you have not, why is it that some among 
you continue to do evil after being often and often 
reminded of your faults, and shown the path of duty ? 
Reflect on your thoughts, words, actions, and circum- 

» stances. 

Thoughts I what are thoughts ? You see your exter- 
nal forms, but thoughts are invisible to the bodily eye, to 
God they have shape and substance. He looks into your 
minds, and sees what is there allowed and cherished. 



Thoughts— lYosDs — Actions. 329 

What are bad thoughts, what are good thoughts ? 
Bad thoughts are malicious feelings towards others, as 
envy and hatred — contempt and indifference towards 
their happiness, the desire of injuring others by wounding 
their feelings, either by assuming airs of superiority 
towards them, or in any other way. Bad thoughts are 
evil imaginations of scenes and objects which virtue and 
purity would avoid. Discoiitented and murmuring thoughts 
are bad ; everything is bad in thought which leads to bad 
words and actions. 

Bad words — what are bad words ? Evil speaking, and 
foolish talking, as also tridlng remarks on serious subjects; 
speaking unkindly or disrespectfully of those who labor 
for your good, and are entitled to your love and grati- 
tude, and saying v/hat will tend to lead others wrong, 
either in thought, word or act. 

Dr. Paley says, one may act a lie; — so, one may act 
pride, vanity and selfishness ; contempt, ingratitude and 
irreverence, they have all their appropriate looks and 
gestures, and can be represented to the eye without 
words. This word acting is very significant, as applied 
to many of the thoughts of the heart of which it is the 
effect. Bad actions are not confined to looks and ges- 
tures, or an irreverent manner in religious worship ; these 
may pass away with the occasion, though they make 
impressions on the minds of the spectators not easily to 
be erased, and they are noted by God. There may be a 
course of bad conduct carried on through a series of acts, 
all tending to a bad end, all injuring the actor more 



330 Hours with my Pupils. 

or less, though often intended only for the injury of 
others. 

As in Geometry you often learn truth by studying an 
erroneous hypothesis, so may you learn to follow good, by 
considering the evil to be avoided. You well know, 
what are good thoughts, words and actions, and you can 
have, and sjpeak, and do, such if you choose — you may be 
good or bad, as you prefer. Sometimes we may be at a 
loss as to what is our duty, but who ever heard of a con- 
scientious, reflecting person desiring to do right, who was 
really bad ? or, if for a season, through the malice of 
others, such an one should be suspected of doing wrong, 
the truth will eventually appear ; to God it is ever 
known, and even if we suffer in this world, for righteous- 
ness' sake, we shall be abundantly rewarded in the world 
to come. 

Reflect on the circumstances by which you are sur- 
rounded. You are at school ; sent here for your improve- 
ment. Some of you are being educated here by means 
provided for you by parents no longer living; they thought 
of your good, they left you property that you might 
enjoy the advantages of education. Whether you have 
living parents watching for your improvement, or whether 
your parents are anxiously regarding you from the world 
of spirits, do as they would wish you to do — reflect. 

Eeflect on your thoughts, words and actions, and the 
circumstances in which you are placed. Extend your 
views to future situations in which you may be placed, 
resolve to fulfill your duties to living parents, or to the 



Circumstances of Life. 831 

memory of departed ones. Eeflect that life is not given 
mortals to be trifled away in levity or amusement, that 
it is short, and important as a preparatory state to that 
eternity which lies beyond. 

Thus by reflecting, will you avoid evil and secure good. 
Life is a school, for which this place is to prepare you to 
enter — from that school you will pass as you may be 
prepared by the manner in which you live, to an immor- 
tal existence. 

1854, 



ADDRESS XIY. 

TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1854. 

Important eras in life are significantly marked by 
appropriate ceremonies. Among the ancient Romans 
there was a custom of publicly taking from boys, at a 
certain age, the baubles and playthings of childhood, and 
investing them with the toga worn by men, as a sign that 
they were, henceforth, to be admitted to the privileges, 
and charged with the duties, of manhood. The ceremo- 
nies of this day are significant of an important era to you 
who stand before me. You have now received an honor- 
able discharge from the duties of school, and are hence- 
forth to be considered as women. The roll of parchment 
presented to you is of itself nothing, but as emblematical 
of labor, self-denial and victory, it becomes to each of you 
a valued trophy. 

How long a course of training has been required to 
prepare you for this day I From your first rude attempts 
to form letters with a pen, from your first imperfect 
efforts to express thoughts in writing, and from your 
earliest lessons in thinking, has gradually proceeded that 
development of mind which has enabled you to become 
the authors of the literary compositions you have to-day 

SR2 



To THE Geaduatiis-g- Class of 185 i. 333 

read before this audience. And how long and laborious 
has been your application to the science of music, to pre- 
pare you to perform with skill and execution the most 
difficult pieces of the greatest masters of the science of 
harmony. Your late examinations in the various branches 
of scholastic education has proved that you have all 
labored, though, it may be, with different degrees of 
application, to prepare yourselves for an honorable dis- 
charge from school, and to merit the honor of graduation. 

But in being freed from certain restraints, and invested 
with privileges belonging to the new stage of life on 
which you are to enter, you assume new duties and 
responsibilities ; these, rather than the idea of enjoyment, 
should chiefly engage your attention ; the flowery gar- 
dens of pleasure may attract your youthful tastes, but 
there you may not long linger — or rather, there you 
cannot long remain. The journey of life is to be per- 
formed, and many obstacles in the way are to be sur- 
mounted. No kind indulgence of tender parents and 
friends can exempt you from the condition of humanity, 
the common lot of mortals. In the Book of inspiration 
it is said that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly 
upward — that is, the physical law in respect to the flying 
upward of sparks of fire is no less certain, than is the 
moral truth that every human being is born to trouble. 

When we look at a collection of blooming flowers, we 
know they will not long remain in this state ; the blos- 
soms must fade and wither. In beholding a group of 
young girls, in the freshness of early yoatb, thoughts of 



334 Hours with my Pupils. 

coming change will take possession of the reflecting 
mind. 

You who are now before me occupy the place where 
for thirteen years successive classes of graduates have 
stood — like you, their hearts beat with bounding pulse at 
the thought of the delightful scenes which imagination 
promised them in the world they were about to enter. 
Suppose these graduates of past years could now, at our 
call, be brought forward, and stand, side by side, with you 
who are looking forward to the future with joyous antici- 
pations. Here would we see a mother bowed down with 
grief for the loss of her lovely children ; and there a 
feeble woman, with little physical strength to perform 
the arduous duties which, in her domestic relations, 
devolve upon her — and here is a daughter bereft of her 
last parent, and left to feel an orphan's loneliness and 
sorrow ; — each one, however prosperous may have been 
thus far her career in life, has learned that there is no 
unalloyed happiness in this world. Mark the change 
which a few years have made in the appearance of all — 
the bloom of youth, how evanescent ! Like the morn- 
ing dew upon the blossom, it passes away long before 
the noon of life. Not a few have exchanged their bridal 
attire for the garments of widowhood. We start back — 
for there appears a spectral train with shadowy robes of 
white — they are your elder sisters of Patapsco, who 
have passed away from the scenes of earth to the world 
of spirits — their last school examination, and the scenes 
of this day, were soon followed by the falling of the 



To THE G-RADUATING ClASS OF 1854r. 335 

curtain upon their short drama of life. Among those 
who have been added to the land of spirits is Agnes 
Buck,* a graduate of last year, known and loved by many 
of you. On the very week allotted for revisiting her 
school-home, the last summons came, and she departed. 

We would not sadden too much this parting hour, but 
it is right to remind you of the uncertain tenure of 
earthly enjoyments, and your obligation to live as those 
who are seeking a better inheritance than earth can give. 
"We trust that none of you will go from this place to be 
mere triflers, seeking only for pleasure amid scenes of 
gaiety. More than half your number are professed fol- 
lowers of Christ. You will not surely forget your solemn 
obligations as Christians ''to live soberly and righteously" 
in the world. 

As graduates of Patapsco, may you maintain the 
honor and dignity of your Alma Mater, exhibiting at all 
times and in all places a character earnest and sincere, 
amiable and conscientious, despising the arts by which 
too many of your age and sex seek to attract a short- 
lived admiration ; frowning upon the flatteries which 
lead to vice, and jealous of any influences which might 
cause the slightest divergence from the path of rectitude. 
Representatives from more than half the States of our 
Republic, may you ever love our common country, and 
cherish with a conservative spirit that sacred Uuion 
which binds it together as one great consolidated nation. 

* Grand-daughter of A. Eirkland, Esq., of Baltimore. 



336 HOUKS WITH MY POPILS. 

In your own homes will be your proper sphere of effort ; 
make their inmates happy and virtuous, and you confer a 
blessing on society. The future citizens and statesmen of 
our Eepublic may owe to you, as wives and mothers, a 
loftier patriotism and a purer morality. 

But the hour of parting is at hand, and I must bid you, 
as a class, fare vf ell. Having accomplished the objects 
for which you came hither, you must now go to fulfill 
your duties to those kind parents who have so liberally 
bestowed on you the advantages of education. We shall 
miss your pleasant voices and affectionate smiles ; there 
will be a void in the places you have filled ; and though ' 
strangers may come to occupy your seats, the absent 
daughters will not be forgotten. Though we may see 
each other's faces no more in this world, we will hope to 
be reunited in those heavenly mansions which are pre- 
pared by our blessed Saviour for those who love and 
serve Him on earth. You may have much to do before 
the close of your mortal pilgrimage. God wdll lead you 
where He will have you to be, and in His own good time 
will take you to Himself, if you will be guided by His 
Spirit, 



PARTING HYMN. 

FOR COMMENCEMENT. 

Pather above ! a sister band 

Go forth upon life's troubled wave, 
And only Thine Almighty hand, 

In sorrow's coming hour can save. 
To them, unknown, the dangers lie 

Which intercept their onward way. 
They dream not of the secret sigh 

Which oft invades the scene most gay. 

Fair maidens ! though with willing heart 

Ye go, famiUar friends to greet ; — 
Yet, Alma Mater claims her part, 

A sigh, a tear, as offering meet ; — 
And memory, often to your souls 

Will speak of early, by-gone days, 
As time its rapid current rolls. 

And pleasure sings her farewell lays. 

Yes, such is life ! a mingled scene 

Of joy and grief, — of sun and shade- 
But yonder Heaven is aU serene. 

And flowers immortal never fade. 
God's blessing rest on those who now 

Launch forth upon life's troubled wave. 
Give grace to keep their Christian vow. 

And from the world's temptations save. 

-1854. 

15 33T 



ADDRESS XV. 

THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN. 

" While they behold your chaste couversation coupled with fear. 
Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the 
hair and of the wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel ; but 
let it be the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the 
sight of God of great price." — 1 Peter, iii. 23. 

On this occasion of addressing you, I can think of no 
more important subject on which to direct your attention, 
than what is suggested by these words of Holy Scripture. 
When I consider the great and prevailing faults of the 
female character, and connect vrith this the idea that the 
interests of a never-ending eternity depend on the attain- 
ment of purity and holiness in this short state of proba- 
tion, an overwhelming sense of awe comes upon me, and 
lam constrained to say to you, "what thou doest, do 
quickly." 

" Chaste conversation coupled with fear," is mentioned 
by the apostle as a means by which a wife may influence 
her husband who refuses to hear and obey the word ; — 
and here we may pause a moment, though in anticipation 
of future events, but which will doubtless arrive to many 
of you. A wife has a deep interest in the character of 

838 



A Bkide. 339 

her husband ; to retain his affection and esteem after 
marriage, how important ! the salvation of his soul 
should also be to her an object of deep solicitude. How 
little does the young and thoughtless girl, about to con- 
nect her future happiness and respectability, and perhaps 
her own eternal interests, to the keeping of one whom 
she has met in parties of pleasure, and of whose real 
character she knows nothing — how little does she think of 
the coming scenes and events of a life of trial and change 
— of a life of duties and responsibilities ! She is to be 
married — her mind is taken up with thoughts of brides- 
maids, beautiful dresses, wreaths and bouquets, a pleasure 
tour, and brilliant parties where she will be the reigning 
queen, as the bride. 

When the ancients were about to sacrifice a victim, 
they first adorned it with chaplets of flowers and led it 
about triumphantly — alas, how many victims of impru- 
dent and ill-advised marriages are left to mourn their 
want of reflection, during a life of sorrow and unhappi- 
ness. But the husband may be deserving of love and 
confidence ; if so, he has certainly a high standard of 
excellence in his own mind, and he looks to find in his 
wife, the realization of his dreams of female purity and 
loveliness. Most miserable she, the wretched wife, who 
is conscious that her husband is deceived in her, that 
familiar acquaintance with her faults and deficiencies will 
deprive her of his esteem, and chill his devoted affection. 

" Chaste conversation coupled with fear." — In mar- 
ried life, especially, should a woman be chaste in her 



340 Hours with my Pupils. 

actions, and in her words — even a man of little refinement 
or delicacy, himself, is disgusted with the want of these 
qualities in a woman ; and a husband is not slow to 
observe the faults of his wife. Disgust and hatred soon 
follow love, when disappointment succeeds to hope and 
anticipation. Chaste conversation does not, in the meaning 
of the Scripture, here refer to words merely, but to con- 
duct in general : to modest demeanor, to actions free 
from all lasciviousness or shadow of sensuality, and to 
wise and sensible discourse. This is to be coupled with 
fear. Fear of what, fear of whom ? Fear of acting or 
speaking wrong, fear of violating any rule of propriety; 
* and, above all, fear of God, who searcheth the heart and 
before whom all are to be judged for deeds done in the 
body, for evil thoughts and idle words. Such should be the 
woman who will have a good influence over her husband, 
who will lead him, though unbelieving, to respect religion, 
who will secure the esteem and confidence of a pious and 
worthy husband — for he shall praise her, his heart shall 
safely trust in her. 

" Whose adorning let it not he that outward adorning of 
plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold or of putting on 
of apparel; hut let it he the ornament' of a meek and quiet 
spirit which is in the sight of God of great price J^ We do 
not suppose that it is wrong to dress becomingly, that 
braiding or plaiting the hair, or of wearing ornaments of 
gold, pearls or diamonds, are in themselves offensive in 
the sight of God. He has created a world of beauty for 
our enjoyment ; He decks the flowers of the field in 



Appaeel. 341 

robes of brilliant coloring and silken texture ; He has 
given lustre to the diamond, bright hues to the ruby and 
emerald, and its inherent richness to the gold — ^let these 
things be used by His intelligent creatures as His gifts, 
but not worshipped as idols. Let the body which he has 
created in His own image, which is destined to be the 
temple of the Holy Spirit receive its due care and atten- 
tion — keep it pure outwardly by attention to cleanliness, 
and cover it with garments adapted to its comfort, and 
if circumstances permit, suggestive of taste and elegance. 

But when the chief care is expended upon the person, 
when the great concern is what one shall wear, how 
shall she dress her head, how have her garments made, 
what ornaments she shall put on — then it is that sin is 
committed, and the rights of the soul are set aside for the 
adornment of the perishing body. 

There are some among you who are too much engrossed 
with the subject of dress. You attach to it an impor- 
tance that it does not deserve ; would you, in order to 
distinguish yourselves for fashion and elegance, do that 
which is wrong, and venture on the very verge of diso- 
bedience to the known rules of the Institute, in relation 
to dress on public occasions ? Our pupils have often been 
commended for simplicity and modesty in this respect. 

Let not " the putting on of a'^'i^ard^ appear to you as a 
matter of supreme importance. Think of that hour when 
your body will be shrouded in its last garment. Eegard 
the passing scenes of this mortal life as steps which are 
carrying yon forward to the Terge of an eternity you 



34:2 Horns with my Fupils. 

must soon enter. In the Romish church, the novice about 
to give up the world, puts on the habits of her order. 
You, Wvho are about to enter into the busy scenes of life, 
may, hereafter, adopt the vanities of fashion ; you may, 
perchance, become its votaries, and its leaders, but pay to 
the institution which has sought to render you something 
more noble, at least the compliment to be willing to 
leave her halls dressed with maiden simplicity. 

But Grod forbid that any of you are to become the 
heartless devotees of fashion ; may you now, henceforth 
and forever, possess ^^the ornament of a meek and quiet 
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great pricej' 

1855. 



ADDRESS XVI, 

TO THE GRADUATES OF 1855. 

Time, in its ever-moving current, lias brought an hour 
of deep interest to the members of this institution, more 
especially to you who stand before me — the class of 
graduates of 1855. In past years, you looked upon this 
scene in the dim perspective of futurity 5 — it has gra- 
dually appeared in more distinct outlines ; — it is now 
here, the present — to-morrow, it will be of the past, — 
anticipation will have transferred it to the keeping of 
memory, where it will ever live amidst your most hal- 
lowed recollections. 

Some of you have passed here many years of your 
life; some have been with us a fewer number of anniversa- 
ries, but all have been here long enough to have formed 
strong ties in the place where your closing period of 
school education has been passed. Amidst the beautiful 
scenery of nature, your hearts have not been insensible ; 
and while the outer world has made its ineffaceable 
daguerreotypes upon your memory, affections, deep and 
strong, have stamped their impress upon the soul. 

The present scene is, of itself, sufficient to excite strong 
emotions without th^ aid of words. Why then speak 

843 



344 Hours with my Pupils. 

thus of its import ! Why remind you that you are for- 
ever to leave the home where you have been cared for ; 
your physical, inteilectual and moral natures nurtured 
and trained, that you who have lived together as sisters, 
in one common family, are now to be separated far and 
wide from each other, never more all to meet together 
again in this world I Yet you expect from me some 
parting words, and therefore I speak ; not to excite your 
sympathy to useless tears, but to strengthen the princi- 
ples of virtue, and the good resolutions which we hope 
have taken deep root in your minds. The parent sees not 
his child go out into the world, without giving, with his 
blessing, counsel to guide his steps amid the dangers 
which may await him. 

This hour should be to you, my daughters, a happy 
one. You have honorably passed through your school 
probation, and are going to your several homes, with 
the approving smile of conscience, and testimonials of 
approbation. But human happiness is never unalloyed — 
the expectant voyager about to embark for foreign 
countries, amidst exciting anticipations of new scenes, 
turns sadly to those he leaves behind, and to the home 
which he may see no more — the happy bride leaves not 
without regret, her girlhood's home, and its dear inmates. 
Gladly you depart for your native home — sorrowfully you 
leave this place, and the friends you have here found. 

But it is not well at this moment to occupy ourselves 
too much with mere feelings ; duties await you, and you 
go to prove, in the battle of life, the armor with which 



To THE Gkadtjates OF 1855. 345 

you have been furnished. In the varying scenes which 
may await you, your principles will be tested ; your 
habits of industry and of self-command will be constantly 
put in requisition. To live an idle, useless existence, 
would be to forfeit self-respect, and the esteem of those 
around you. It is well-directed action, only, that is truly 
commendable. The labor to be fashionable, or to gain 
edat for beauty, accomplishments or learning, is unworthy 
your immortal destiny. May the daughters of Patapsco 
ever aspire to be good women rather than fine ladies. 
The reputation for talents, or great learning, is not to be 
anxiously desired. Education should produce good fruits^ 
rather than manifest itself in ostentatious show or pre- 
tension. Our country needs all the virtue of its enlight- 
ened daughters in this period of political excitement and 
dangerous tendencies, when patriots tremble for the fate 
of our common republic : and foreign nations, jealous of 
our prosperity, regard with complacency and encourage 
our sectional prejudices, confidently expecting them to 
work out our national destruction. I speak not to you 
of woman^s rights, but of womanJs duties. May the 
descendants of the noble women of the American Revolu- 
tion, prove themselves (with far superior advantages for 
mental culture), not inferior to them in wisdom, virtue, 
and true patriotism. 

Go, then, my daughters, fulfill your mission as wise 
and good women, faithful followers of the blessed 
Eedeemer of mankind, seeking to benefit others rather 
than please yourselves. Go, now, to be the light and 

15^^ 



34:6 Hours with my Pupils. 

joy of your respective households, and reward the care 
of the parents who have made so many sacrifices for you. 
Finally, wherever the guiding hand of Providence may 
lead you in future years, and whatever relations you may 
be called to sustain, may you be found among the faithful 
and the true, and at last may we all find a home, 
together, in heaven. 

1855. 



PARTING HYMN. 

EVENING HYMN TO THE VIRGIN, PARAPHRASED. 

Jesu smictissime, list to our parting strain ! 
Ora pro nobis ! we may not meet again ; 
Guard us while shadows lie, 

Far o'er life's journey spread ; 
Hear our hearts' parting sigh, 

Thine, too, hath bled. 
Thou, that hast look'd on death. 

Aid us when death is near, 
Whisper of Heaven to faith, 
Oh ! Saviour, blest Saviour, hear ! 
Ora pro nobis ! we lift our hearts to thee, 
In life, and death, our Saviour be. 

Jesu sancfissimey list to our parting strain ! 
Ora pro nobis ! we may not meet again ; 
Oh ! thou who know'st our frame, 

And dangers of the way. 
Our erring thoughts reclaim. 

And be our stay. 
Oh ! save our souls from ill, 

Guard thou our lives from fear ; 
Our days with virtue fill. 

Oh ! Saviour, blest Saviour, hear ! 
Ora pro nobis ! we lift our souls to thee ! 
In life, and death, our Saviour be. 

Commencement, 1855. 



ADDRESS XVII. 

CHRISTIAN PROFESSION. 

The time is now near at hand in which some of your 
number are to make a public profession of their Christian 
faith. It is proper that this address should have refer- 
ence to the coming event, and to topics connected with 
the early dedication of the young to the service of God, 
their Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. 

In pursuing this subject, I shall consider those of you 
here present as consisting of three classes : 1st. Those who 
manifest no desire to become the children of God, or who 
may have felt religious convictions, but have said to the 
Holy Spirit striving in their hearts, " Go thy way for this 
time, when I have a convenient season I will call for 
thee." 2d. Those who have professed their faith in 
Christ ; who are communicants in His church, and who 
are bound by this relation to Him, to live as becometb 
children of light. 3d. Those who are about to ratify 
their baptismal vows, made for them by others when 
they were in infancy, or who have as adults voluntarily 
taken upon themselves these vows. 

First, to those who choose to remain without taking 

318 



Those who make no Christian Pkofession. 349 

upon themselves the obligations to live as becometh the 
children of God ; who prefer to enjoy the pleasures and 
gaieties of life, rather than to check the tendencies of 
their hearts towards those vanities ; — to you I would 
address a last warning admonition — for so short is the 
period now before ns, ere our final separation as 
*' Teacher and Taught," that we may regard this as our 
last opportunity for the serious consideration of truths 
which concerns your immortal destiny. Bear with me 
then, once more, while I would seek to make you better 
acquainted wdth yourselves, and the condition in which 
you now stand, as respects your title to a heavenly inher- 
itance. There are many of you who have chosen to 
remain free from all self-imposed Christian obligations. 
You have preferred to cast off reflection ; you have not 
wished to place yourselves in a situation where you 
might be reminded that you are acting unworthily of 
a Christian profession ; you thought that by making 
no profession, none could reproach you for not ful- 
filling its conditions. Alas ! for the hardened heart, 
for the conscience which can slumber on, unheeding the 
loud tones of the Gospel, "Awake thou that sleep- 
est !" 

God speaks to you in His providences. Within the 
last year. His voice has come to us all, in an event which 
though touching me most painfully, has been deeply felt 
by every inmate of Patapsco, even to the humblest ser- 
vant, for all felt that they had lost a friend. 

One in the bloom of health and the prime of life, who 



350 Hours with my Pupils. 

read to you on one Sabbath day * on the uncertainty of 
this life, and the importance of being prepared for a 
future state — as if a practical ilhistration were required 
by the Almighty, is, on the third day after, suddenly 
taken from these earthly scenes, when with filial love 
and devotion she is travelling with her mother debili- 
tated by sickness and seeking health in change of air and 
scene — ^you know the beauty and piety of iier life : you 
hear, on all sides, the testimony that she was " ready to 
go ;" you perceive how this belief softens the grief of sur- 
vivors, nay, turns their mourning into joy, and their 
weeping into songs of praise ; for they look forward to a 
blessed reunion in the world of spirits, and to a never- 
ending companionship with her in mansions prepared by 
the Saviour for his faithful servants and followers. 

God speaks again in the early death of school compan- 
ions ; The good and exemplary Eliza Yan Meters f is cut 

* On Sunday, August 26, Miss Lincoln in the absence of the chaplain (it 
was a season of vacation) and her mother being indisposed, gathered for 
religious worship the large number of pupils remaining, with other members of 
the Institute family. If she had known what God designed should take place 
on the third day after (the 29th of August, at that same hour), she might have 
selected the Hymns and other portions of the worship, as appropriate. She 
read a Sermon on God's providence, the uncertainty of life, dangers seen 
and unseen ; — ^how, in a moment from an accident in travelling, the soul 
might be summoned to eternity. Again, as the sun was calmly sinking below 
the western horizon, did she lead in the hymn of praise to God in that circle of 
pious worshippers ; and with a glowing cheek and brightened eye, after the 
prayers with which she had closed the Sabbath evening, she came to her 
mother's sick room, to ask if she should read to her. And thus passed her last 
Lord's day on earth— a fitting prelude to an eternal Sabbath. 

t Daughter of Hon. John Van Meter of Ohio. 



God's Peovidences. 851 

down by "sickness in a day;" — while the piously resigned 
Sarah Young * is seen slowly lingering under the touch 
of consumption, and after her removal to her own Vir- 
ginia home, we learn that she has passed away. A 
momentary sadness has come over you — ^perhaps a sigh 
breathed, or a tear shed, or at the least a shade of seri- 
ousness for an hour, or a few minutes, and then you 
turned away, glad to amuse yourselves, glad to cast from 
you all gloomy thoughts — the dark, cold grave was too 
horrible for you to think of, you would not turn to the 
beaming light from Calvary, which can irradiate the tomb 
with heavenly brightness. Eeligion seemed to you 
gloomy and austere ; — because you would not become 
familiar with her, you feared her looking into your trifling 
and vain hearts ; so you failed to secure that friend, who 
taking you by the hand would have led you safely 
through dangers and temptations, and finally enabled you 
to triumph over the last enemy in this our mortal life, even 
death. Eeligion would have taught you that Christ 
having conquered death. His followers have no more 
cause to tremble before the " King of terrors." 

Of what avail to you, who refuse to attend to God's 
call in his solemn warnings, have been the many addresses 
you have heardr'from this place ; when the voice which 
now speaks to you, and which soon will be forever silent 
to you, has called on you to repent of your past thought- 
lessness, and to turn your feet from following after 
vanities. 

* Daughter of Dr. Young of Virginia. 



352 HouES WITH MY Pupils. 

I speak to you as a class — and yet, had I time, I miglit 
particularize the different individuals of this class who 
refuse to interest themselves in religion, who disobey 
God's calls, and remain as they are ; I might say of one, 
she is too indifferent, about everything, to mind religion ; 
she neglects her own improvement in her school educa- 
tion, she only desires to live without doing anything — all 
effort, physic al or intellectual, is a weariness to her ; how 
then can we expect her soul to wake up to its immortal 
interests ! Shall we say, sleep on, take thine ease — alas, 
how soon thy soul may be required of thee ! 

I might say of another, she is too eager for present 
pleasures to regard spiritual interests which are not 
manifest to the senses — ^like Esau of old, she would sell 
her immortal birthright for one savory morsel. 

Of one, we might say, she is skeptical as to religion ; 
she sees the faults of professed Christians, and she doubts 
the efQciency of that religion which fails to make them 
what they should be. Of all the devices of the enemy of 
the souls of men, this is one of the most dangerous, the 
most successful in keeping back those who are willing to 
reflect, from entering the fold of Christ. But consider 
that Christ came to save sinners, consider that as sinners 
His professed followers came to Him, and though they 
may often err, and do things unworthy of their high 
calling, yet they may repent in bitterness of spirit ; — 
you see the transgression, but the penitence may be in 
secret between the sorrowing soul and its God. " Lay 
not the flattering unction to your souls," that the faults 



Tbe Holy Communion. 353 

of professing Christians will excuse your neglect of 
*' bounden duty and service." Watch not for the failings 
of others in respect to their duties, but look well to 
yourselves that ye be not among the foolish virgins, who 
will be found at the last, with lamps untrimmed and with 
no oil in them. 

We will next address those of yoa who have been par- 
takers of the Holy Communion. You professed to wish 
to be " Christ's faithful servant and follower." You pro- 
fessed your faith in Him, and your determination to be 
true to your religious obligations, to your life's end. You 
promised that ''by God's help you would renounce the 
world, the flesh and the devil," and that you '' would not 
follow nor be led by them." That help will ever be 
granted you, if you ask for it in humble prayer. You 
have met with trials and difficulties. Perhaps you 
imagined that you were to find your nature entirely 
changed — that you would never feel tempted to sin — that 
you would never be angry, even under provocation ; that 
you would never be jealous of others, envious, unkind or 
unamiable. You may have expected some wonderful 
changes to be wrought in your own character and dis- 
position by your obedience to God's commands. The 
blessed sacrament of the Lord's Supper, we do indeed 
believe is a sanctifying ordinance ; but like the dew of 
heaven, its influence is gradual, often unseen and unfelt 
by the recipient's, until manifested by the trials of life, or 
at the near prospect of death, when doubtful hope is 
changed into firm Mtb, and the Christian can say with 



354 Hours with my Pupils. 

St. Paul, " for we know that if our earthly house of this 
tabernacle be dissolved, we have a house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens." 

You have met with trials, perhaps, in the unkind 
remarks of others ; they have asked for the fruits of 
your profession. It is true that you ought to exhibit 
Christian tempers, that you ought to be kind, courteous, 
meek and humble. Often may your friends have been 
pained to witness your defects, your apparent living so 
far below your Christian profession ; but do not despair 
— you have placed yourself, with all your diseases of the 
soul, under the care of the great physician — we confide in 
His skill, we trust in His power and wisdom, and we 
know that if you will persevere, He will cure your spirit- 
ual maladies. 

I shall conclude by addressing those who are about to 
make their public profession as followers of Christ, and 
for the first time, approach the Lord's Table in the Holy 
Communion. 

On entering a new home, we regard with deep interest 
the first meal we take in that place. When the home 
circle assemble around the family board, they feel that 
this is a kind of consecration of their new abode. When 
you were about to leave home to go away for years, the 
last meal you took was a season of deep thought. When 
you return, and find yourselves once more seated at the 
family table, your hearts will overflow with gratitude for 
the goodness of God which has preserved you all, and 
brought you together again, crowning you with mercy 



Gatheking- at Table. 355 

and loving-kindness. And when a beloved member of 
the precious family circle is taken to join the family of 
the Redeemer in another world, how do we feel the void 
when the survivors gather together at table ; thus is the 
family board consecrated as the altar of domestic love 
and harmony, the suggester of tender and sacred associa- 
tions. 

The table of the Lord ! how solemn, how affecting the 
thought that our Saviour is here, with us, in Spirit — the 
bread and wine are the emblems of his body and blood 
given for us — he will bless to our use that holy feast — 
in it, we commune v/ith the spirits of all Christian wor- 
shippers — with " the saints of all ages," — here we meet in 
spirit with the beloved ones who, but a little while ago, 
knelt, bodily, with us at this table, but are now of another 
world ; we believe them present with us, rejoicing that 
we are following Christ in his commands — and that we 
shall soon be with them in Paradise. 

It becomes those who are about to devote themselves to 
the service of God, to be humble, for they know them- 
selves to be sinners in God's sight, and if reproached by 
their fellow-creatures as such, let them bear patiently 
such reproach, considering what persecutions their Saviour 
endured for their sakes. 

It becomes them to be serious ; — shall a sinful creature 
of earth, permitted to approach the majesty of Heaven, 
lightly regard such a privilege ? Let thoughts of 
personal appearance, of the opinions of other human 
beings respecting you sink into nothingness, before the 



356 HouEs WITH MY Pupils. 

awful considerations which at such an hour should press 
upon the soul. You are beginning to take your first 
steps towards heaven ; with your eyes and hearts raised 
heavenward, seize upon that chain whose termination is 
in the spiritual world ; hold it fast — let it not be wrested 
from you till you find yourselves safe in the '' bosom of 
your Father and your God." 

1856. 



ADDRESS XYIII. 

TO THE GRADUATES OF 1856. 

You have now, ray dear pupils, received the testimo- 
nials of honorable dismission from your scholastic duties. 
Some of you came to this place while you were yet 
children. The bud under our fostering care has blos- 
somed ; and, in the bloom of womanhood, you are now to 
return to your respective homes. The years of your 
pupilage may have seemed slowly to pass away — but they 
are now all gone — and you, too, are to go with this 
departing, this departed school-year. 

You who, for a longer time, have been pupils of 
Patapsco, will, more especially, be regarded as expo- 
nents of the system of education here pursued. Your 
success or failure in respect to the great business and 
objects of life, can never, either in your own minds or 
those of others, be entirely separated from the persons 
with whom, and the place where, your characters have, 
In some degree, been formed and moulded. 

As the fruits which ^jeward the cultivator are not all 
equally perfect, with the same degree of care and labor, 
so must moral and mental culture, ever be attended with 
various degrees of success. Health, energy of purpose, 

357 



358 HouKS WITH MY Pupils. 

industry and perseverance, are necessary to form the 
thorough and accomplished scholar. Seldom are all 
these requisites found united ; — your deficiencies, for 
such the best will find in themselves, may it be your 
future care to supply, by improving all advantages 
which may be attainable. May you feel that so far from 
being proud of the attainments you have made, you 
should rather be humble because you have not done 
more. In this spirit of humility return to your homes — ■ 
in this spirit enter upon the scenes of life, and you will 
render glad the hearts of friends, and secure the favor 
of strangers. 

You are now to depart hence, to enter a new school — 
even the school of life. The school of life I where your 
teachers may be stern and severe, speaking harshly to 
you in trials and afflictions of various kinds, and in divers 
manners — but you must learn that '' whom the Lord 
loveth. He chasteneth ;" and thus He prepares His 
children to leave this school of life with honor, and His 
approbation of, " Well done good and faithful servant, 
enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." If you have 
looked forward with solicitude to your school examination 
as a test of your preparation for an honorable discharge 
from scholastic duties, how should you ever bear in mind 
the termination of earthly scenes, and His scrutiny who 
having ofi'eued himself as your Saviour, is to be your final 
Judge. Think not then, that your trial is finished ; — 
this present, is only one stage in the drama of your life, 
but it is to make way for more serious and eventful 



Duties and Peospects in Life. 359 

scenes and duties, in whicli your attainments, principles 
and characters are to be tested. 

Some graduates of former years, who, in t:he pride of 
youthful loveliness, and distinguished for talents and 
moral excellence, stood in the places you now fill, rest 
from their earthly labors, having left behind them a good 
hope of their Christian calling. Many others are now 
filling various stations in life with honor and usefulness ; 
— when weighed in the balance, they are not found want- 
ing. I say this in no boastful spirit, but in humble 
gratitude to God — for what they are, and for what they 
are not ; both that they are pious and intelligent women 
seeking to know, that they may perform their duties — 
that they are not, the mere creatures of fashion, squan- 
dering health and reputation in scenes of thoughtless 
gaiety and dissipation. Often is the grateful incense of 
praise for their virtues wafted to me from the circles of 
life which they adorn, and where their genial influence is 
diffused. So may it be with you, who are now to leave 
the seclusion of academic life ; — may you be prepared for 
admission into heavenly mansions should it be your lot to 
be called early from this world, or for a longer sojourn 
amidst the toils and trials of life — and though on earth 
we may never meet again, yet there will assuredly come 
a period, when, if we discharge faithfully the duties of 
our high calling, we shall rejoice together for all we have 
been, and all we have done, conformable to the dignity 
of our immortal nature, and of our Christian privileges. 

The greater number of your class are professed fol- 



360 HOUES WITH MY PuPILS. 

lowers of Christ. Several of yoa were baptized here. 
There was one* who stood with me as your sponsor ; 
she was with us on the last anniversary of this day, 
but the Lord, whom she loved and served, saw fit, in a 
mysterious manner, to take her from us. May you 
cherish her memory, and emulate her bright example ; 
and may each of you be to your parents, a blessing and 
an honor, as was my sainted daughter to her widowed 
mother. Let us bless God for all the saints He has given 
to earth, as an example ! 

The circumstances under which I take leave of your 
class are peculiar and affecting. While you go to begin 
the duties of life, I resign the office which for so many 
years has brought me into communion with young and 
loving hearts. Though rejoicing in the favorable circum- 
stances under which I leave this interesting charge, and 
foreseeing for this institution, so dear to us all, a continu- 
ance of prosperity and usefulness, I cannot, without feel- 
ings which words may not express, bid adieu to my last 

CLASS OF GRADUATES. 

* Miss Jane P. Lincoln. 



PARTING HYMN. 

Almighty Father! bow Thine ear, 

And listen to our farewell strain ! 
A sister band, behold us here, 

Thou knowest if we meet again ! 
For, far and wide, our pathways lie, 

And dangers wait our pilgrim band; 
Uncertain all beneath the sky, 

Our trust is in Thy mighty hand. 

For not to earth our hopes we bind, 

Sisters in Christian faith are we ; 
And oh, our Saviour ! may we find 

In heaven, a home, and rest with Thee, 
A "little while," the Saviour cried, 

And ye shall see your risen Lord, — 
For us was Jesus crucified. 

For us, incarnate, was the " Word!" 

Holy Spirit ! 'tis Thy part 

To fit us for a heavenly rest ; 
Thy gracious influence on the heart. 

Alone can make us truly blest. 
Our choral harmony of praise. 

To Grod the Father, God the Son, 
And Holy Spirit, let us raise ; 

The Omnipresent Three-in-one. 

Commencement, 1856. 

16 S61 



CONCLUSION. 

The course of this volume has been like the progress 
of life. We had our five times three-score and ten pages 
allotted us (for to the practical wisdom of publishers, 
authors are bound to submit). — At first the years seemed 
long, and we indulged in making ample selections from 
the materials before us, but we found, as the middle 
period of the book was attained, we had made but slow 
progress. And so the years flew by, until there was, at 
the last, space for little more than the " Farewells." Is it 
not so with human life ? Does not its termination, how- 
ever protracted, come suddenly to all, and find much that 
was to be done, remaining incomplete ? 

We had intended to have given Letters written to 
pupils, while travelling in our own country and abroad. 
But having already passed the prescribed limits, we 
must omit them, with the intention, however, if life and 
health be permitted, to publish them at a future time, in 
a separate volume. 

And now we part with our readers — we may have been 
but a dull companion, for we have discussed serious sub- 
jects, and perhaps have seemed austere in our senti- 
ments ; but what experience of life, the inspiration of 

862 



Last "Woeds. 363 

conscience, and the word of God prompted us to say, we 
might not withhold. 

At this very time, events are transpiring which speak 
to the women of America in louder and more solemn 
tones than our feeble whispers, of the dangers of yielding 
to the fascinations of pleasure. Parents and Teachers 
are thus admonished to be more sedulous in the moral 
training of the young, and to value above all other edu- 
cation, the proper development of the emotions and con- 
science, strengthened and sustained by a firm and well 
disciplined will. Thus only will women be virtuous, the 
safe and prudent conservators of domestic happiness, and 
public morals. 

March 15, 1859. 



THE END. 



Ij 2B NOv. 1859. 



J w. 



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